


Wondrous Future

by Bomber_Harris



Category: Kino no Tabi | Kino's Journey - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Gun Violence, Nonbinary Character, Philosophy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:21:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 49,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28229067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bomber_Harris/pseuds/Bomber_Harris
Summary: During a visit to a technologically advanced country, Kino has an upsetting encounter that leads them to rethink and reconsider past beliefs.
Kudos: 3





	1. To he that has, will be given; from he that has not, will be taken away.

Something about the country seemed off just from the sign on the road. Along the side of the dirt road that Kino was driving on stood a rather bombastic propaganda piece, depicting a soldier with a sword cutting through a caricature of another country’s army. On the top of the sign, it said “Your country needs you! Join today to defend your livelihood and obtain glory!”. Seeing propaganda celebrating one’s army wasn’t surprising, of course; they had seen plenty of war and conflict for more than one lifetime. But for that to be the first introduction a traveler has to a country was something else.

“Is this the way they introduce travelers?” Hermes grumbled. “A painting of someone getting stabbed? Does this stuff even work on humans, Kino?”

“You’d be surprised. Fear is a powerful motivator.” They responded. Quickly passing by, Kino could see a few bullet holes in the back of the sign, not strong enough to get through the metal but enough to leave a dent. “Guess we aren’t the only ones who weren’t impressed.”

“Probably friends of the guy getting stabbed.” Hermes joked. They drove on a bit further, gently weaving through the curves the road took as it got steeper and steeper, protected from the sun by the thick canopy of the forest. Eventually, the two emerged from under it, and were greeted to an incredibly steep road leading up to the next country they would be staying at. Kino gently patted Hermes on his headlight.

“If you get us up there, I’m in your debt.” 

“Yeah, you owe me one.” Hermes responded. The traveler continued their way up, slowly but surely getting through each part until finally, at last, the country gates were in sight. And what a sight they were; the medieval walls which surrounded the inner city were imposing, and alongside them were more modern and sleek towers, each with guards armed to the teeth manning the wall. The guards themselves were just as imposing, each having bowl-shaped helmets sitting on their heads and gas masks covering their faces; automatic persuaders were either carried normally or slung over their shoulder, and what appeared to be the officer of the unit had a revolver tucked into a holster on his chest. Kino took a deep breath and slowed the motorrad down as they approached. They could see some of the soldiers moving into position, un-holstering their weapons but not pointing them downrange, and the officer had pulled out a megaphone.

“Halt!” The officer shouted, his voice booming through the megaphone. Kino quickly pulled the breaks and stopped immediately. “State your business!”

“I’m a traveler!” Kino shouted back. “I intend to only stay in your country for three days, then I’ll be gone!” One of the soldiers leaned into the ear of the officer.

“A traveler? We haven’t had one in years.” He whispered. The officer nodded. 

“Do you have any weapons on you, traveler?” The officer asked. 

“Yes! Three persuaders, two pistols and a rifle!” Kino answered.

“Wait, but don’t you-” Before Hermes could speak any further, Kino shook their head and shushed him. “Oh, my bad.” He quietly responded. 

“Understood! You may come closer!” The officer said. Kino dismounted Hermes and slowly walked towards the gate and the officer while towing the motorrad beside them. “For as long as you stay here, miss, the weapons you have will be held safely at the barracks here. We apologize for the inconvenience, but safety is our responsibility.” He said politely.

“Just Kino, sir. But I can agree to that.” 

“Apologies, Kino.” The officer responded. As Kino began to take off their coat to un-holster and turn in their weapons, the soldier previously speaking to the officer once more leaned in. 

“What was that about?” He whispered.

“Not our business, private.” The officer whispered back.

“Our job is to ensure that the culture is defended.”

“Our job, private,” The officer snarled back, “is to ensure that no terrorists get inside. If the traveler is a threat to the culture, then one of our boys as the Hub will deal with it.” As the officer was finished lecturing, he turned to see one of the soldiers patting the traveler down. 

“Nothing, sir! All clear.” The officer noted, quickly grabbing the pistols and putting them aside.

“Excellent work, men. Back to your stations!” The soldiers saluted, then sprinted to their towers or positions. “Again, my deepest apologies, traveler. We’re currently at war with a neighboring country, and we’ve had to bolster our security. I hope you enjoy your stay.”

“Certainly.” Kino politely responded. “So you and your soldiers aren’t actually military?”

“They aren’t. As a member of this country’s glorious army, I’ve taken the initiative to bolster our militias and get them in tip-top shape!” He said proudly, sticking out his chest a little. Medals of all kinds adorned his uniform, and even his revolver was engraved with gems and runes.

“Well, best of luck then.”

“Thanks, traveler. See you again in three days.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Kino, please tell me you didn’t sneak in any knives.” Hermes asked, audibly worried. They were now in an elevator shaft, going down God knows how far. 

“What? I didn’t want to go undefended.” They cheekily responded. Hermes groaned.

“You heard what the guard was saying! If we get caught, you could get killed!”

“And if someone attacks me and I don’t have a weapon, I could also get killed. I’ll take my chances.”

“I hope you're right, Kino.” Hermes responded. “Now, as we previously discussed, you owe me.”

“So what’s it gonna be, then?”

“A full tank and a clean down.”

“Fair enough, you do smell pretty bad.”

“Hey, come on!” Hermes shouted, causing Kino to giggle. “Hey, Kino?”

“Yeah?”

“How far have we gone down? Why did they even send us into this elevator if the city was right there?” 

“No clue. Mayb-” The elevator shook a bit, startling the motorrad and their rider, before slowing to a crawl. Finally, the doors gently opened, revealing an interior that made whatever was above pale in its beauty. Skyscrapers towered above them, sometimes literally scraping into the roof holding the dirt above them, with workers chipping away to make room. It was bright, with lights shining on every street corner, guards walking around with flashlights and numerous people wearing some strange box over their eyes. The traveler and their motorrad gasped; the style and look of the city was wild, as they walked past futuristic bars, eastern churches and retro casino’s.

“See, why couldn’t they have started off with this?!” Hermes argued. “This is such a better impression. Not stabbing a guy.” Before Kino could respond, they noticed a gas station up on the right side of the road they were on, with a big neon sign that read “Jenny’s Number”. The name confused Kino, but they pressed on regardless. Kino gently placed Hermes next to one of the gas pumps and kicked out his kickstand. The lights were on within the station itself, but it seemed that no one was at the front desk. Kino opened the door to the building and walked in.

The building itself was completely unremarkable for the most part. Food and drink adorn the shelves on all sides, magazines rested on shelves along the side of the wall, along with candy and cigarettes, and a radio playing music sat on the table where the cash register was. Kino decided to wait for a bit, and flipped through some of the magazines. They were all out of date; the newest one, a catalogue of persuaders, was at least forty years old. As Kino was reading through it, they could suddenly hear the sound of bags falling to the ground.

“I’ll be right there!” A voice shouted. Kino placed the magazine back in place and walked to the counter, leaning over just a bit to see what the fuss was. Out walked a person; or, that's what Kino would call them in polite conversation. The man’s hair seemed to shoot out in every direction, if it wasn’t covered by the strange box Kino noticed on some people before. The man wore a shirt which said in fancy letters “Jenny’s Number”, though it was a bit hard to tell with all the grease and leftover food which stained the shirt. The most presentable part about him was his shorts, which looked like perfectly normal blue pants; everything else was a nightmare. The man walked to the counter, but then walked past it oblivious to Kino’s presence.

“Hi there!” Kino said. “Just stopping by for gas an-”

“Hold u- where are yo- oh, ok.” The man grumbled, taking the box off of his head. “D-uh, Hi! Welcome, welcome…” He muttered, his volume jumping sporadically. “What is it that you need?”

“Just some gas and a bath for Hermes over there.” Kino responded.

“I can do the first, but we don’t do cleaning, sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Kino said, putting down the money needed for a full tank. The man grabbed it and shoved it into the cash register quickly. “Say, I’m not from around here. What’s that box you had on your head?”

“Oh, you're a traveler? God, last one I saw was ….” He paused for a second, trying to think. “It was ages ago, I know that. But the box, that thing is a beauty, let me tell you! The Stairway to Heaven!”

“That’s what it's called?”

“Yup, and it’s not joking! The government gave these bad boys out a couple years ago, as a reward for those who helped with the war effort. Virtual reality; you should try it.” He exclaimed happily.

“I still don’t really understand, but thank you regardless. I’ll definitely try it some time.” Kino said, before turning away and heading to the door.

“One more thing, traveler!” The man shouted. Kino turned around to face the man, their hands on the door. “What do you think of the name?”

“Sorry? Of the box?”

“No, of the store! You like it?”

“I, ah… don’t understand it.”

“Oh, come on! _Jenny, I’ve got your number/ I need to make you mine_?” He “sung”, if you could call saying the lyrics with a slight pitch shift singing. Kino shrugged.

“Sorry, I don’t recognize it.” They responded. The man scratched the back of his head for a few seconds, frowned then walked back towards the backroom with the box. “Uh, thanks again!” Kino said, trying to make the situation a little less awkward, but the man just walked on, falling out of sight. The traveler walked back to Hermes and started to fill up the tank. 

“How’d it go?”

“Fine, if a bit odd. They don’t do cleaning, so we’ll have to go somewhere else for that.” They responded. “The guy behind the counter… I’m not sure how to phrase it.”

“Did he give you grief?”

“Only at the end. Was polite for most of it, if a bit strange. He asked me if I understood the name of the place, and when I didn’t, he just frowned and walked away.” 

“Anything else?”

“The magazines in there were old. Very old, at least forty years.”

“Strange. Whelp, I think the tank’s full.” Kino tucked the pump back into the slot, kicked in the kickstand and mounted the motorrad. The engine revved up, and Kino turned it slightly to the left, slowly driving out onto the open road. As they were driving, Kino could see through the side window the man at the counter, using the Stairway to Heaven. He was smiling and laughing, walking and roaming all around his room. “Kino!”

“Sorry, what?” The traveler asked, snapping back to attention.

“I was asking where we were heading next. Are you feeling alright?”

“Just fine, Hermes. I was distracted, that's all. Honestly, I’m feeling kind of beat.” They yawned, trying to keep it somewhat quiet. “Let’s find a place to stay for now and then figure something out with your bathing situation. Sounds good?”

“Fine with me.” The motorrad responded. The two drove on through the next set of lights, following signs and trying their best to avoid the flow of traffic. From all the signs they could find, the city had only one hotel, called the “Temple of the Golden Pavilion”. They eventually found their way, and Kino and Hermes were now standing before the building. On the outside, it looked like the temples they had seen before, only the wood in-between the roofs were gold-colored. As they walked towards the doors, it opened automatically for the both of them, and inside right at the front was the reception desk and numerous aides. The woman working the front desk smiled.

“Welcome to the Temple of the Golden Pavilion.” She said politely. “How can I help you today?” 

“Hi there. Staying for three days, just need a bed, a shower and enough room for a motorrad.” Kino requested. The woman looked at them funny.

“Wait, you're a traveler?” Kino nodded in response. “Holy smokes, I’ve never met one! If that's the case, then the temple already has a room reserved.”

“Pardon? I didn’t reserve any room.” Kino asked, confused.

“You didn’t, but the government did. As a part of our tourism program, travelers who stay during wartime get a room on the house.”

“Really?” Kino sounded skeptical; they had been scammed before, and this sounded too good to be true. “Mind if I see the room?

“Of course. Please follow me.” The receptionist said, walking in front of the traveler and their motorrad. The two followed suit, entering a gold-plated elevator. Kino was astonished; it looked incredibly expensive.

“A lot of gold here.” They remarked. The receptionist chuckled.

“The second floor, where you will be staying, is almost entirely gilded in 24-karat gold leaf.”

“That… sounds quite expensive.” Kino noted, shocked by the price. _This had to be a scam,_ they thought.

“In normal times, it would.” The receptionist responded. Kino and Hermes were both confused; wartime was hardly the time of prosperity like that. The door opened, and they were led down the gold-gilded hallways by the receptionist, until they stood before the biggest door on the floor. They pulled a ring of keys out and quickly unlocked it. Inside was a huge room, gilded in gold just like everything else. A king size bed with a canopy rested on the side, and bookshelves filled to the brim sat to its side and the opposite end of the room. Beautiful paintings of landscapes, old houses and the wilderness hung upon the wall, and a radio sat on a table right next to the bed. The receptionist looked over to see Kino visibly nervous; they were gritting their teeth. “Everything good on your end?” She asked.

“Uh, I mean, I-” Kino stepped forward into the room with their motorrad in tow, placing it down next to the wall with the kickstand up. They turned around to face the receptionist, smiling but still nervous. “It’s very nice and I’m grateful. But I… I mean, I can’t afford any of this. I’m just a traveler, the only money I get is-”

“Like I said, the expenses are already dealt with. The room and any food you eat at the Pavilion is on us.” The receptionist insisted. “If you have any further questions, feel free to contact me. I hope you enjoy your stay.” The receptionist closed the door, leaving Kino and Hermes by themselves. Kino took a moment to look around the room, take in the sights.

“Can you believe that deal?!” Hermes said excitedly. “Sounds too good to be true!”

“I agree. If it is, good thing I have this, then.” Kino pulled out of the sole of their boot a long knife with a sharp tip.

“Kino!” Hermes scolded. Kino laughed, tucking the knife back in. 

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Once you get that bath maybe you won’t be so worried about everything.”

“Oh really?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, do a sweat check right now.”

“Sure thing.” Kino responded. They took off the large tan trench coat and through it to the side, followed by the dark olive green coat underneath, leaving only a white dress shirt. “Alright, let’s see how-” Kino leaned in towards their armpits and took a sniff, only to immediately pull their head back, recoiling in disgust. Hermes laughed.

“I guess we both need a good clean.”

“Guess so. My god.” Kino remarked, pacing around the room. They noticed a painting that they hadn’t seen hanging up on the wall, with an inscription that read “Yukio, Champion and Leader of the Glorious Restoration”. It showed a man in a military uniform with a bandanna around his forehead, speaking passionately and waving his hands around before an audience of soldiers and the press. 

“Glorious Restoration…” Kino mumbled.

“Pardon?”

“Just reading out loud. You know, I think I’m going to sleep now.” Kino remarked, practically falling into the bed.

“Okay. Goodnight, Kino.”

“Goodnight, Hermes.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Early in the morning, long before the sun was up, Kino found themselves in their usual routine. Usually, when they had their persuaders on them, Kino would spend some time every morning practicing their quickdraw, continuously holstering and drawing both the revolver on their hip and the pistol placed on the back. The threats that a traveler faced on a daily basis required a quick hand and good aim; this fact was something Kino had instilled in their head ever since they first prepared to travel. 

But even with the persuaders gone, this was no excuse to not practice. Again and again, Kino held their hands over the holster and pretended to draw the persuader, accounting each time for the speed and accuracy of the aim. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it worked for now. As the lights within the city began to turn on, however, Kino wondered whether the relentless drilling was really for all that or a ritual like any other.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Pavilion’s café was a nice and quiet place to enjoy one’s morning. Most of the tables were empty, and the only noises being made was from the chefs making food and a serenade of horns coming from the speakers in the wall. Sitting along the wall was Kino, enjoying their breakfast while Hermes was placed right next to them. Kino had been so used to bad motel food that the quality took them off guard; they had ordered over easy eggs, bacon, wheat toast with jam and potatoes fully expecting them to be mediocre at best. But the taste was magnificent, and Kino savored every bite. 

“So, what’s the plan for today, Kino?” Hermes asked.

“Let’s get you a cleaning, then from there we just explore and see what we can find. Same plan as usual.” Kino responded, taking a bite out of the toast.

“Have you figured out what’s the deal with the city up above?” The motorrad asked further. Kino took a moment to finish chewing a bite of the toast.

“No clue. Before I showered this morning I tried looking through some of the books in the room for info, but they are all puff pieces written ages ago.” Kino noted. “I don’t even remember seeing a door or anything leading there. If we really want to go there, I don’t know how.” The traveler scooped up some of the egg with their fork and ate it. As they continued to eat, a lone man in a suit and tie with shades walked into the café, looked around for a second, then walked towards Kino and Hermes. Kino quickly swallowed what was left and looked up to see the man standing right before them.

“Are you the traveler Kino, by any chance?” The man asked. Kino nodded. “The Imperial Government has requested your presence at the State Palace for a meeting with the Great Leader Yukio.”

“Why does he want to meet me?” Kino asked.

“The Leader takes a personal interest in those who travel, as their safety and happiness is his responsibility while they live within our glorious nation.”

“So, when am I expected to meet him then?”

“As soon as possible. Yukio is a busy man and appreciates punctuality.”

“Very well. Do you have directions?”

“Head past the Patriotic Exile Government Headquarters and go straight. You can’t miss it; the biggest building in the country.”

“Ok, I’ll head down after I’m done eating.”

“We appreciate your cooperation.” The man responded, bowing and then walking away. Kino turned to face Hermes, wiping their face with a napkin.

“If that's the case, we’ll get you cleaned afterwards. Sorry about all this.”

“No need to apologize. I’m just confused as to why they want to meet us.”

“Same here, Hermes. Same here.” Kino remarked. “I’ll finish up quickly and then we’ll get going.”

“Bone apple tea, then.” Hermes remarked.

“No, it’s “bon appetit”, Hermes.” Kino corrected.

“Yes, that’s it!”

The traveler quickly finished up breakfast and headed on their way, Hermes in tow. The streets were even busier than the day before, with cars and trucks driving on by while traffic officers barked commands and gave the sign to go ahead. Kino and Hermes drove right along, eventually finding themselves before the Patriotic Exile Government, a large building with a neon symbol of an eagle carrying a rifle. Kino stopped for a moment right before a large sign standing along the roads in front of the building. 

“What’s it say, Kino?” The motorrad asked.

“Let’s see… “GLORIOUS TRUE FREE GOVERNMENT OF PATRIOTS SOLDIERS AND NATIONAL REVOLUTIONARIES NO DEVIL-COSMOPOLITANS OR LYING WOMEN ALLOWED GOD PROTECT VOZHD ALEXEI GOD NATION LABOUR”.” The traveler read aloud. "Right below it, there's another bit of text: "For more information about our cause, feel free to come in and talk to us. We’re always willing to help"."

“Quite the mouthful.” Hermes remarked sarcastically. Kino thought they could hear a voice talking, and when they looked around, they could see two shadowy figures dashing into a nearby alleyway.

“I’ll be right back, Hermes. Just going to check something.” Kino said, trying to comfort the motorrad. As they walked forward, Kino realized they were in a bit of a dilemma. The safe thing would be to have one of their knives right on hand, but if this turned out to be nothing, it would look really bad for them. This would be especially bad since they had to turn in their persuaders due to security concerns, and could get them into a lot of trouble. But if they didn’t draw the knife and they were dangerous, then Kino only had so much time to either escape or draw it before they attacked them. Close-quarters combat was always more deadly, and that kind of risk may not be worth it, but Kino couldn’t guarantee that they wouldn’t get to them before driving away.

As they slowly peaked around the corner, Kino could see two black-clad men chatting with each other quietly. The uniforms themselves bore armbands with yellow eagles carrying rifles, and they wore hats that bore the same logo with the words “GOD NATION LABOUR”. Kino quickly knelt down to draw their knife, but before they could reach it, the two black-clad men turned the corner, grabbed and pulled them out of sight and punched Kino so hard they were knocked out cold.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Kino slowly came to, the first thing that came to mind in their groggy, half-working brain was where Hermes was. They could still feel the pain from being punched, but Kino had dealt with punches before and probably would long after this. Hermes came first, and that was that. As they tried to stretch and move a bit, Kino could feel their arms being cut into by rope; when they tried to move their legs, it was the same story. Now slightly more awake, Kino could get a feeling for their surroundings; they were tied to a post in some kind of office room. They could see what looked like two men playing cards, while a radio in the corner played some piano jazz. A rack of coats next to the door was filled up with black uniforms and black caps, along with Kino’s trench coat, green coat and hat. Pamphlets and posters were stacked neatly all over the room, with slogans like “RESIST DEVIL-COSMOPOLITANISM AT ALL OPPORTUNITIES” and “VOZHD ALEXEI WILL PROTECT GLORIOUS PEOPLE FROM SUBJUGATION GOD NATION LABOUR” written on them and art depicting stoic and fierce soldiers or smiling farmers below them. Similarly, a few pieces of art was hung around the room, again showing heroic warriors slaying cartoonish-evil depictions of people who Kino didn’t recognize. Kino could see the alleyway they had been knocked out in from the window, so they presumed they were in the Patriotic Exile Government main building.

“When’s Alexei supposed to be back?” One of the men playing cards asked the other. The other man shrugged.

“Wasn’t too specific. He said that his meeting with the ministers is expected to go for some time.”

“What’s this over, anyways?” He asked.

“I overheard him saying that Yukio doesn’t approve of us trying to capture a Cosmopolitan. Apparently, he wanted to meet with them personally as a part of some tourism boosting program or something. Now they’re negotiating over what to do with the “traveler”.”

“Good lord. I like Yukio, but sometimes he makes me scratch my head. Say, will the prisoner be able to hear us talk right now?”

“I don’t know. They were out cold when I was putting on the restraints.” They both turned around to look, seeing the traveler they had dragged in an hour earlier. They looked like they were struggling to break free, barely able to even shimmy closer to the ground. Their hair was a bit messy, and the left cheek of their face still looked sore.

“They’re awake, finally. You really gave them a sucker punch, huh?”

“Hey, I did what was needed! Remember what the Vozhd says, everything for the nation!” He shouted, turning to the other man then back to their prisoner. Kino shot him a dirty look. “Hey, don’t look, but I think the Cosmopolitan is staring at me.” The man whispered. 

“What? Are you sure?” The other man said, awkwardly looking away and stroking his beard.

“Yeah, certain. Should I try to talk to it?”

“Hell no!” The other man responded, trying to contain his volume but still quite loud. “Wait until Alexei gets here, he’s an expert in these matters. We don’t know what kind of moon magic it can use!” He insisted. _That’s a new one,_ Kino thought. The men both sat patiently, with one looking at Kino and the other away, for a little while longer. The men and their prisoner didn’t talk or make any sound; they all sat (or in Kino’s case, stood) in silence. For a brief moment, Kino attempted to gently slide down just a little, so they could get closer to their knife, only to realize that the rope was partially tied to the pole as well. It made a small creaking noise, causing the two men to briefly look up, only to look away when nothing happened. Kino’s mind was still running through the possible fates of Hermes, trying to see if they could figure out what had happened to him, as a knock on the door was heard.

“You know the drill.” The bearded man said to the other. They quickly moved around the room, replacing the piano jazz on the radio with some kind of nationalist march, putting away their cards and bets and putting on their hats and holsters. The bearded man opened the door and gave a strange salute, where he raised his right hand into the air while keeping his arm and hand perfectly straight, and shouted “Hail Alexei!”. The other man did the same, and a voice from outside said “At ease!” in a calm voice. In walked two men; the first, an older man with a white mustache, dressed in an officer’s uniform and wearing a holster for a revolver on his chest and a sheathe for a sword on his hip. The other, much younger than him, strutted forth, followed by a column of men in black uniforms. He sported a large beard and mustache, and gazed upon the others with dark brown eyes. Kino assumed that this was the “Vozhd” the men referred to; he sported a large black coat and, like some of the other men, a military officer’s hat with the words “GOD NATION LABOUR” written into the top. He walked forth with his chest out, proudly saluting back to his men and simply nodding when a few spoke to him, not uttering a word. The column behind him, along with the two men tasked with guarding Kino, began moving chairs from the backroom or the closets, setting them up into neat organized rows and sitting in them. After a few minutes, they were all seated, with the exception of the officer, the Vozhd and the traveler.

“Soldiers and Blackshirts of the Patriotic Exile Government!” The Vozhd shouted, his voice booming like a cannon through the building. The men quickly shut up and started to listen. “As your Vozhd, I have made it my job and my mission to ensure that this last remnant of our fatherland and its glory remains strong and free from those who have taken it over. This has not been easy, of course, but despite the attempts of saboteurs and assassins, we have done a terrific job at defending the culture from decadence and decay!” The men clapped in turn; Kino hoped to never know what “defending” really meant in Alexei’s dictionary.

“But comrades, our next great test begins now. Earlier today, a unit of Blackshirts were, as usual, conducting operations in regards to the capturing and interrogating of Devil-Cosmopolitans. One prisoner in particular - the one restrained right behind me - is, according to member’s of Yukio’s government, not a spy or any foreign devil. In fact, this “traveler” was welcomed as a part of the government tourism program, and intended to meet Yukio later today. What I fear gentlemen, is that our good friends here have let their guards down! While officer Sadao has insisted that they were personally present when the “traveler” arrived at the city checkpoint-” He pointed to the officer that walked in with him, who was leaning up against the wall near the door. “I believe a different story, and both Yukio and Sadao have said that if we can prove that this is a Devil-Cosmopolitan, then they will be tried in accordance with the law!” The blackshirts stood and cheered, some saluting and chanting “Hail Vozhd Alexei! God, Nation, Labour!”. 

“Now, comrades! We all shall be asking questions to this "traveler" here in order to determine the answer, so don’t be shy! I’ll be the first to start, so feel free to join in!” He said, giving a devilish grin. He turned to face Kino, then slowly and quietly paced around them, examining the prisoner like a scientist observing a test subject. Whatever they were, the looks alone confused the Vozhd. _Is it a man or a woman?_ , Alexei thought. The clothes were clearly that of a man, and the same could be said of the short hair as well. But the face threw him off; it was clearly more... feminine? No, that wasn't right; Alexei had seen enemy agents in disguises before, but this was more than that.

Then a horrifying thought arrived in the Blackshirt commander’s head. The revolutionaries in his homeland always talked about Hegel, the great philosopher. He worked through the dialectic; thesis, antithesis, synthesis. All of history, he argued, could be understood through the constant cycle of a system meeting its opposite and changing as a result. The Devil-Cosmopolitans had applied this to politics, economics, religion, nationality and race; but what if they applied it to sex as well? The man was the thesis, the woman the antithesis; emerging from this formula, a horrible eldritch abomination that sought to merge the two, a perfect agent of subterfuge and trickery! Here, before this congregation of national revolutionaries, stood the most deadly tool in the enemy arsenal they had yet encountered, a dealer in thunder and death never before seen!

A part of Alexei wanted to scream. He didn’t know what to do, or how to respond to such a thing. The onlookers saw a man smiling and pacing around, but his brain was scrambled and he couldn’t get it together. What could he do in the face of such a nightmare, this unyielding demon who bends the mind until it is shattered into a thousand pieces? He felt like he was a child again, ready to run away from the schoolyard bullies and sulk in some corner where no one could see or hear him. 

But that wasn’t right, was it? He remembered how his father, a man stronger than he ever was, told him that if he couldn’t be brave like a bear, he could be clever like a fox or wise like an owl. Alexei had trained his Blackshirts well; they knew the ideological tenets of their party so well, and if he couldn’t defeat this tyrant from the depths of hell with firepower, he could do it with cunning. This was not a time of panic, but of a calm and collected mind. The Vozhd stopped in his tracks for just a second and smiled once more; he needed something for this battle.

Alexei walked past his men towards the radio. Kino and Sadao watched the man with a perplexed look on their faces; neither of them knew what was going on. Alexei quickly sorted through the cabinet of albums and songs until he found his favorite, the one that always seemed to cool his nerves. He took it out, ejected the previous song, and put it in. The Blackshirts knew that something was about to go down; Alexei didn’t just pull out Edward Artemiev’s _Flight_ for nothing. He walked to the front again and stopped before Kino.

“Let’s start this off with a simple one. What’s your name, traveler?” Alexei asked. The traveler was confused at to why it took that long to ask a question that simple.

“Kino.”

“Kino?”

“Yup. My name’s Kino.” They replied. The Vozhd smirked. 

“Never heard of a name like that. Where’d you get it from?”

“A good man.” They responded sternly.

“Very well. How old are you?”

“Eighteen.”

“Tell me, “Kino”, why did you come to this great country?” The Vozhd questioned. Some of the men were writing notes, while one was searching through a book entitled “Ethnogenesis and the Biosphere of Earth” by Lev Gumilyov.

“I’m a traveler. I go from place to place, stay for three days, learn what I can, and leave.”

“Is that so? Could you clarify something for me? What do you mean by “learn”?”

“Well, I’d like to understand how people work. What makes some people believe one thing and others a different thing? How do some societies prosper and others fail? How-”

“Well, I can answer that one.” Alexei interrupted. “Societies that rely on the talking shop that is democracy and parliament are destined to decay and die! Those who rely on it are destined to fall prey to the most fowl and vile of forces! Consider our home, comrades! It was a republic before the vile tyrant Andrei! It was democracy that gave us his protegee, Kazuo!” The Blackshirts clapped and cheered in response.

“Sorry, but wasn’t I supposed to answer the questions?” Kino asked. Before Alexei could respond, he could hear Sadao giggling. He turned to face him and frowned.

“Apologies, Alexei. Please continue.” He insisted. Alexei scowled and turned back to face his audience and Kino. A Blackshirt raised his hand.

“What is it, comrade?” The Vozhd asked.

“I’ve got a question for the traveler. Are you a guy or a girl?” He shouted, trying and succeeding to project his voice from the back of the room. Kino wasn’t really sure how best to respond to that question. The easy answer could save their life, but it wasn’t the right one. Kino looked around the room for a second; they could see Sadao resting their face in their palm, as if they wanted nothing to do with this. He, at the end of the day, was the deciding factor here, and if he didn’t care, then why should Kino?

“I just want to be called Kino, if you could.” They said, smiling. “Otherwise, it makes things a bit embarrassing for all parties involved.”

“I don’t really understand.” The Blackshirt shouted in response. For a second, Alexei felt like a father, watching his children grow and learn about the world around them. He may never have been the bear, as his father recognized, but his Blackshirts - his children, his diamonds in the rough - could be the brave warriors the country needed. There they were, pushing back against the great demons the traitors sent at them, fighting for the day when they could return as heroes, bringing with them a new order of things.

“It’s just how things are, you know?” The traveler said. The Blackshirt smiled.

“Oh, ok.” He said, sitting down and looking content. Kino briefed a sigh of relief, thankful that it didn’t get any more awkward than it already was. They looked to see Alexei fuming; his face was red, and he was scowling. 

_New lists,_ Alexei thought to himself, calming down as he listened to _Flight_ , the great classic. _Thank the heavens for Artemiev._

“Since God Almighty first conjured man into existence,” Alexei lectured, much to Kino and Sadao’s dismay, “our species has been understood to be divided into two sections: man and woman. Each has their own abilities and responsibilities, for that is what nature intended. What I fear the Devil-Cosmopolitans may have done is attempted to, all at once, combine and negate the two. In the process, they could conjure a monstrosity never-before seen; one which violates the rules of nature and the dictums of the Lord in its attempts to achieve revolution. As patriots, we must never, and I mean never, relent against this foe! For it is barbarism of the worst kind!” As the Vozhd finished ranting and raging, the Blackshirts (with the exception of the one who asked the question) roared back, shouting and slamming their boots into the ground in unison.

“Alexei, just a moment if you could…” Sadao asked, trying to contain his raging headache. “Could I ask the traveler a question?”

“Fire away.” Alexei responded.

“Traveler, you remember me from the gate, yes? I was the general training the guards.” He noted. 

“I do, actually.”

“Now, Kino, do you remember when I asked about if you had any persuaders on you? What was your response?”

“I told you that I did. I had two pistols an-”

“Ah hah! I told you all!” Alexei shouted. “This harbinger of chaos smuggled weapons into our very borders! Exposed before you now, comrades, is a-”

“Alexei, please, just hold on for a second.” Sadao said, cutting him off before he could go any further. “The traveler had two weapons, and gave them to me without any pushback. They were very cooperative, and when the guards patted them down, they didn’t find anything.” Alexei looked sad.

“What are you saying, Sadao?”

“If Kino is an enemy of the culture, they’re doing a pretty bad job at it. No weapons or anything? Kind of hard to kill someone like Yukio if you don’t have any tools to do the deed with. If Kino really is a threat to the culture, then the men at the Hub will deal with it.” The room went dead silent. Alexei was sweating profusely.

“Wait, hold up, you told the Hub about this? Sadao, what did you do?!” He shouted, visibly panicked. 

“No, Alexei, I didn’t. I just said that if they were a threat, the Hub would take care of them.”

“Do not just bring them up like that!” He shouted again. The Vozhd took some deep breaths. “Everyone breathe.”

 _New lists,_ he thought to himself. _Artemiev really has a way of bringing the feeling of flying to music. What a genius._

“I have a question.” One of the Blackshirts with glasses spoke. “Traveler, do you know what a Devil-Cosmopolitan is?”

“Good question, comrade!” Alexei shouted, now back to normal.

“No, I’ve honestly been confused since I saw the sign outside the building.” As Kino finished speaking, Alexei grabbed a book next to a stack of pamphlets. The title read “A Guide to Racial Enemies with Dr. Ivan Serov”. He flipped to a bookmarked page.

“According to Dr. Serov, the Devil-Cosmopolitan is a specific race evolution spawning from the combination of traits from numerous inferior race-types that he lists fully here so I won’t for the sake of brevity. What makes it nefarious is that, as the name suggests, it's an evil that lacks the morality patriotism gives us. Without a nation, without tradition or convention, we become lost. The Devil-Cosmopolitan cannot agree with this because they are biologically hard-wired to believe in the most vile of ideologies.”

“Dr. Serov also made a similar point in his book on hereditary reactionaries, Vozhd Alexei.” The Blackshirt with glasses noted.

“Excellent memory, comrade. Who’s to say we’re nothing more than armed thugs?” He joked. The Blackshirts laughed. “In regards to exact biological features, they tend to vary, but usually sport crooked noses, long nails, a weak physical makeup and no genitalia.”

“I’m sorry?” Kino asked.

“They tend to produce asexually. We’ve yet to determine how the process happens, but our top biologists are working around the clock.”

“How many genitalia do you have, Vozhd Alexei?” One of the Blackshirts asked.

“Eight. And counting.” He declared confidently. The Blackshirts roared in support, giving him a standing applause and cheering enthusiastically. As they broke into another bout of chanting “Hail Alexei! God, Nation, Labour!” Alexei began to sing the lyrics of some nationalist hymn of some kind, his voice not really trained for singing. The Blackshirts joined in, their voices booming off the walls as they sung of the glory of their Vozhd, the culture and their eventual liberation of the homeland. Sadao looked over to see Kino looking at once baffled and demoralized. A part of Sadao didn’t want to anger the Blackshirts; they were essential to the war-effort, as their function as stormtroopers was vital to assaults and charges. But Alexei had overstepped his boundaries; the state came first, and by kidnapping the traveler, he had gone above it. He clearly needed to be humbled. He walked over to Alexei and placed his hand on his shoulder.

“Alexei, I’ve made my decision. Release the prisoner.” He said calmly. Alexei was visibly angered.

“Really? You believe the story of the Cosmopolitan?”

“I think you may have mixed it up, that’s all. Yukio understands our enemies just as well as you do, Alexei, and has taken the threat seriously before. Trust me on this.” He insisted. Alexei sighed.

“Vladimir, Konstantin! Release the prisoner! And Leon, return their motorrad and possessions to them!” He ordered. The Blackshirts looked disappointed, but followed orders. Kino was just happy to hear that Hermes was in one piece.

“I’m sorry, comrade. You know how it is.” 

“I know, Sadao. I’m just… upset, that’s all.”

“I’m upset too, Alexei. We’re all upset. But think of it like this, right? If you traveled to a country and got arrested and subjected to… whatever that was, you’d be upset too, right?” Alexei shrugged in response.

“Maybe? But if they’re a Cosmopolitan, then I’d say “that’s what you get for sacrificing children and controlling the banks”, you know what I mean?” He insisted. The Blackshirts had untied Kino, and were returning Hermes and their equipment as he spoke.

“Take care, Alexei. You’re a good man.” Sadao insisted.

“Same to you, Sadao.”

 _New lists,_ Alexei thought to himself. _If God could make such beautiful things like music, should people not defend it? It’s glory can only be witnessed if the enemies are annihilated._

Kino towed Hermes out the door, and Sadao followed right behind them. As the door to the building closed behind them, he ran before the traveler and placed his hand together.

“I sincerely apologize about all this, Kino. Alexei is a good man, I promise, but sometimes he gets carried away.”

“I was actually going to thank you, sir. I owe you one.” Kino responded. 

“Just doing what I can, traveler. If it makes you feel safer, I can guide you to the government building.”

“Thanks, but I can handle myself.”

“If it makes you feel better, that kind of stuff only happens to actual Cosmopolitans, not travelers.” He insisted. Kino scoffed.

“Honestly, you just made it worse.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

By the time Kino had reached the government building, they were exhausted. The mental strain of the trial (or whatever that could be called) followed by explaining it all to Hermes was taking its toll. Thankfully, nothing had really happened to the motorrad; they had stored him away in some garage within the building and weren’t really planning on doing anything. Kino had gone through much worse, granted, but the whole affair was quite shocking. This clearly wasn’t the first time they had kidnapped someone, and probably wouldn’t be the last. On the sides of the building were numerous soldiers of the city militia, dressed and armed much like the group guarding the walls when Kino first arrived, but without gas masks. As Kino unmounted Hermes and approached the doors of the building, one of the soldiers held his hand out to signal to stop.

“Halt! State your purpose!” He shouted.

“I’ve been asked by your leader to come here.” Kino responded.

“State your name.”

“Kino.” One of the guards who had a large book began flipping through some of the pages, eventually landing on one and giving the thumbs up. 

“Very well. Follow me.” The guard ordered. He opened the door and Kino followed right behind with Hermes in tow. The building interior was exquisite, but its looks seemed more like a wealthy man’s home than a government office. Every wall it seemed had bookshelves which were filled with novels and books on just about every topic under the sun, from botany and cooking to military strategy and martial arts. Kino could see other people walking around the rooms with the “Stairway to Heaven” box over their heads, interacting with others and waving their hands around strangely. The guard walked before an elevator, where another guard was standing. 

“Is this the traveler?” He asked, a toothpick sticking out of his mouth.

“Yup. Just got back from the whole Alexei debacle.”

“Well, I’m glad Sadao resolved the whole thing. Maybe we can give those morons a taste of _Kōdōha_ one of these days.” He remarked.

“I doubt it. They provide manpower for the army, not to mention they fight like hell. From the sounds of it, they were gonna tear out the boy’s lungs if it wasn’t for Yukio.”

“Don’t call me boy. My name is Kino.” The traveler cut in, to the surprise of the two soldiers. They both looked at each other and shrugged.

“Apologies.” The soldier conceded. “My friend over here can take your motorrad for cleaning if you want.”

“Cleaning? I- uh, sure.” Kino responded, confused as to how they knew about that. The soldier took Hermes and walked away, while the soldier and Kino entered the elevator. The soldier pressed the top button and stood silently as it began to rise, crossing his arms and leaning on the walls. As Kino stood there pondering the situation, the soldier took the toothpick out of his mouth.

“What’s it like, being a traveler?” He asked nonchalantly. “I imagine it must be nice, getting to see the world.”

“It’s not as easy as it sounds. It can be pretty dangerous, and if you're not prepared to defend yourself or know ways to make money quickly, you can get in a bad spot real easy.” The traveler said. “But you’re right; seeing different countries and learning about how they work makes it all worth it.”

“Which country is your favorite?” The soldier questioned. 

“Wow, I don’t know. Ask me when I’m on my deathbed; maybe I’ll have some witty, great answer then.” Kino quipped. 

“Oh come on! You got to have one you really liked; one that was better than all the others.” The soldier insisted.

“Better? I don’t think it’s my place to say. I don’t stay for too long, and I don’t really live there.”

“So what? Some places are just nicer, cleaner and fairer. Some aren’t. Think of this country; it’s been nice to all who deserve it!”

“Which is why I got punched and strung up by agents of your government, right?” Kino shot back.

“Hey, that’s not our fault. Alexei’s his own guy.” The soldier responded. Kino stood silently until the door opened. The two walked out, and the soldier guided the traveler to a set of doors at the end of the hallway. “Your coat and hat, please.” The soldier requested. Kino obliged, handing over their trench coat and hunting cap.

“Is Yukio in there?” Kino asked. 

“Not yet. He’s currently in a meeting, but will be there shortly. If you could wait inside, that would be great.” 

“Of course.” With that assurance, the man opened the door and Kino walked inside. As the soldier closed the door behind them, Kino was greeted to a strange mix of designs. There was the usual stuff to be expected in a state office, with leather chairs and couches, more bookshelves, large red curtains shielding the windows, a large desk and artwork depicting great battles or stoic-looking statesmen. But next to one of the bookshelves was a set of cases on the wall titled “Our Nation’s Finest Films.” Kino walked closer to inspect it, and inside the cases were antique posters for various movies, with titles like “Lawnmower Man”, “Junior”, “Ben and Arthur”, “I Am Here.... Now” and “Love on a Leash”. Below the cases was another sign which read “We lay down our lives in the name of the culture”. As Kino stood there, they could hear what sounded like talking. The traveler leaned in a bit to get a better understanding of what it was.

“For god’s sake! Just apologize and get it over with!”

“I will not! That devil is not merely in our country, but in this building, polluting our culture, and you expect me to apologize?! I refuse!” A voice shouted. Kino could recognize the voice as Alexei’s. 

“Our culture? We both know you are as much a foreigner as the traveler.”

“Being foreign and being a traitor are separate things, Yukio! I have devoted my movement to preserving honest society, and I will not allow the Devil-Cosmopolitans to infiltrate and corrupt the state!”

“Alexei, please. I’ll approve of that arms convoy you requested if you apologize.” They were silent for a few seconds.

“If you can do that, then fine. No skimping either; my men need new rifles, and rocket launchers as well!” Alexei demanded. Kino could hear the men begin to walk to the door. The traveler quickly sat down on one of the couches and pretended to look surprised as two men walked in. The first was Alexei, who scowled as soon as he saw Kino. The second was dressed much less formally, wearing a black t-shirt and tan pants. He smiled and shook the traveler’s hand.

“A pleasure to meet you at last, Kino. My name’s Yukio.” He said politely.

“Same to you, sir.”

“Before we go on with our business, my comrade Alexei has something he’d like to tell you.” Yukio said. Kino looked up to see Alexei struggling to even speak.

“I’d - er, I mean, well, you - no, I apologize. For the - the whole thing back there. It won’t happen again.” He said painfully slowly. He averted his gaze from the traveler towards Yukio, once again scowling, before standing up straight and looking back at Kino.

“Apology accepted.” The traveler responded. They could tell that it wasn’t genuine, but Kino didn’t want to cause trouble. Yukio looked like he was going to say something to him, but Alexei stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. “It wasn’t something I said, was it?” Kino asked. Yukio shrugged.

“Alexei wants the best for everyone, traveler. He just - well, he can occasionally be short-sighted.” He said, walking over to his desk and pulling out a bunch of photos. “One of my good friends at the Hub got a few photos of the whole affair. Wild stuff, I couldn’t believe my eyes. Here, take a look.” He invited Kino over to see. Kino saw spread out on the desk numerous photographs taken of the affair. The two could see Alexei speaking, the Blackshirts saluting, Sadao trying desperately not to laugh and Kino suffering through it all. Yukio seemed to be particularly interested in one of Kino struggling to break free from their bonds, looking off to the side. He seemed to be staring at it; his eyes weren’t moving anywhere else.

“Excuse me?” Kino asked, snapping Yukio out of it. “How did you get these, anyways?”

“Oh, right. Well, like I said, I have connections. It's amazing what we can fit cameras into.” He remarked. “Sit down, please.” Yukio pointed to one of the chairs in front of the desk. Kino obliged and sat before the man the people here called the “Leader of the Glorious Restoration”. “Really amazing pictures. A real Saint Sebastian in this one, too.”

“Pardon?” Kino asked. 

“Oh, nothing. I was referencing a painting. I want to know how your stay has been, traveler. It’s my job as leader to ensure that everyone here is happy.”

“Well, aside from what's happened today, it's been interesting. I like the food, and the people are nice. Some of the technology on display is quite impressive.”

“We have some really great and hard-working scientists. See, so many countries seem to lose their soul with technology. They become… inhuman. Materialism corrupts the soul, warps it until it can no longer be recognized, until man is merely a life for sale. You know what I mean?”

“I do, actually. Been to a few countries where that was the case.” 

“Excellent, so you understand the importance of a government that is concerned with that.” Yukio’s face lit up as he went on, emboldened by the traveler’s statement. “So many politicians and revolutionaries only care about material conditions. You can see this in the dreaded “programs” they make, with this and that about tax policy and income inequality and voting reform and-” He looked like he was actually going to get a headache just thinking about it. “It’s all so tiresome, don’t you agree?”

“Well, I’ve never had the patience for politics. I prefer to stay out of it.” Kino responded.

“I thought the same when I was your age. I just wanted to be left to my books and my poetry. Let the world do what it wants to do, I would say. But politics is a fickle thing.”

“So what made you change?” 

“Every day growing up, I watched the dogs in parliament either do nothing for the people of this city or actively collaborate with our enemies. Traveler, the thing about peoples and nations is that they are a lot like trees or plants. They both need roots firmly planted, and if they are denied nutrients or substance, they wither and die. A rootless people, like the one parliament had made, would never survive the test of time. So I prepared; physically, I started an exercise regimen that would improve and perfect my body, and politically, I found like-minded people within the rogue political parties and militias.”

“People like Alexei.”

“He was one of them, yes. Marshal Sadao, who you’ve also met, played a key role in the whole affair. His philosophy of _Kōdōha_ was quite popular amongst the military as is, recognizing the importance of total mobilization, ruthlessness towards the nation’s enemies and reverence of the one true emperor.”

“Your country has an emperor?”

“Yes, and unlike the parliamentary system, he is the central figure in state affairs, and not those who defended the defeatist constitution!” He proudly declared.

“Where is he now?”

“Oh, he’s… he’s around here, doing stuff. Busy man, he is. You know.” Yukio said, stumbling to get an answer out. “How have your living quarters been? Are you holding up fine?”

“They’ve been very nice. I greatly appreciate the hospitality your government has given me. Although, I am a bit shocked that your government can afford just giving places out to people like that during wartime.”

“We’ve been blessed by numerous economic factors. Great economic planning, profitable mining operations, the slave system, trade with friendly countries, a successful arms-”

“Sorry, hold on just a second.” Kino interrupted, taken aback. “What did you say?”

“Oh, yes. I’m no expert on trade, but we sell our goods in exchange for food and industry.”

“No, before that. Did you say slaves?”

“Yeah. Is something the matter, traveler?” Yukio asked nonchalantly. 

“Could you… clarify on that part?” Kino asked, trying to be as polite as possible.

“Well, one of my economic advisors - not my favorite types of people, but they’re important - comes forth with a proposal on how to reduce costs and build industry faster. You might remember Alexei mentioning we have a problem with Cosmopolitans and such. Really unlikeable people, you know; criminals, degenerates and traitors. My advisor says that rather than just imprison them for their crimes, we offer a chance at redemption. They work above building a city for us to eventually re-emerge and live there, producing goods and offering services to the state, all the while dodging bombs and machine gun fire from enemy aircraft. If they can survive that and prove they’re worth something, we let them go. They love it too; when they get out, we hand out the VR headsets you’ve probably seen, so they can socialize with normal people as well.” He said casually. “It’s genius! We’ve saved so much money, and given people a chance to grow up and throw off non-social behaviors. The most recent one to leave even has his own business, a gas station if I remember correctly.”

“I…” Kino was having trouble even forming words. They had encountered former slaves and seen such a system in a few countries, but never had they met someone actively benefiting from it while talking about it in such a nonchalant way. “So, if that… thing Alexei did worked in his favor, would I-”

“Nonsense. We would do no such thing to law-abiding travelers.”

“I mean, if they “proved” that I was, then what?”

“Again, not a concern for someone like you. Only the violent and cruel go to the buildings up there.”

“I don’t wish to cut our meeting short, but I have some places I’d like to see before the day ends.” Kino awkwardly blurted out.

“Thank you for visiting us, Kino. Take care.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“How do you think they knew about your promise to clean me?” Hermes asked. The two were now back at their hotel room; Kino was resting on the bed, and Hermes was placed along the side.

“They have good spies, no doubt. When Sadao mentioned something called “the Hub”, Alexei freaked out.”

“You think they’re listening right now?”

“I wouldn’t doubt it.”

“Are you concerned about that?”

“Not really. We’re only here for the night and early morning; I can put up with that.” Kino yawned at the end of their sentence. 

“You sound beat.”

“Getting beat up and kidnapped will do that, Hermes. You learn something new every day.” Kino quipped. The two shared a laugh.

“Well, I’m glad to hear that you're doing okay. I was worried sick.”

“Same here, Hermes. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next day, Kino quickly packed their bags and equipment and ate breakfast at the café within the hotel. As they ate a delicious meal of French toast and sausage links, they wondered whether that too was made by the hands of some poor sod whose only chance at salvation was slavery. Every time they tried to distract themselves or focus on something else, the events of the previous day were still in their mind. A part of them was still embarrassed that they were taken hostage in the first place; Kino had fought some pretty tough individuals and those were the people they lost to? The traveler looked forward to the day when that was something they could look back on and laugh at. Hermes seemed to be in good spirits, which was good. _At least he’s okay,_ the traveler thought.

They left the Pavilion quickly, checking out of the hotel just as the lights underground were being turned on. The traffic was basically nonexistent, meaning that Kino could easily swerve through the streets without much trouble. They passed by the gas station before, and Kino could see the man with the Stairway to Heaven on, once again laughing and smiling. It was an intensely sad sight; this guy had to survive bombing runs and a brutal government and the only way he could survive was to adopt the customs and norms enforced by his masters. Kino again tried to distract themselves, but it wasn’t working.

The two entered the elevator and stood patiently as it rose to the top, back to ground level. As the door opened on reaching the surface, Kino could see soldiers guarding the walls in the same uniforms and gas masks as before. Sadao was there too, training a soldier on how to operate a belt-fed persuader. As the traveler walked towards the guards, Sadao turned around and waved to them.

“Leaving so soon?” He asked.

“Three days. No longer.” Kino responded.

“Fair enough. Let me get your persuaders.” The general walked into a small hut set up next to the towers overlooking the road and walked out with a pistol, a revolver and a large black case. “Before you go, you should know that our soldiers are engaged in combat on the main roads. If you want to avoid it, you're going to want to take the back roads down the hill and through the forest.” He handed the weapons to Kino, who holstered them quickly.

“Understood. Thank you for letting me know.” The traveler said, mounting their motorrad and revving up the engines.

“Oh, and one more thing, Kino!” The old general shouted, trying to project his voice over the noise of the engine. Kino looked back to see the old man taking off his gas mask for just a second. “Take care of yourself, kid.”

“Thanks. You too.” They responded, driving away while the general looked on. Apart of him felt like they didn’t get a fair look at the country, what with Alexei and his stupid shenanigans. But they seemed to be holding up just fine regardless. He put his gas mask back on and headed back to work. The eternal drill-session of the spotless mind, as Dr. Serov would say. 

As Kino drove away from the country and onto the open road, the traveler and their motorrad could hear the crackling of rifle fire in the distance and the booms of artillery pieces laying waste to the land and whoever was unfortunate enough to be living there at that moment.

“He seemed to really care about you, Kino.” Hermes noted.

“I’m kind of surprised, honestly. I thought he would be taking Alexei’s side when he showed up to that “trial”. If you could call it that.” They said, turning down the road and heading into a forest.

“So what made him take your side, then?”

“I’m not sure. I thi- hold on a second, Hermes.” On the far end of the road stood a bunch of figures, persuaders holstered. Two of them were huddled next to one with a wide-brimmed hat and a black long coat. As Kino slowly drove closer, they could now tell it was Alexei and his Blackshirts; they were facing away from the two, looking up at something. They weren’t really doing anything; they just stood there in total silence.

“We should turn around, Kino. This seems like trouble.”

“We don’t have another way to go. It's either through here or the battle. I’d rather take my chances with the Blackshirts-” Kino pushed their coat back to show their revolver in its holster, “Especially since I’m armed now.” They drove closer and closer, fully expecting for the Blackshirts and their leader to turn around; but still, they were silent, and didn’t move. Kino and Hermes were unnerved; the latter was hoping they could turn back right now. As they finally came into view of what Alexei and his men were staring at, Kino put the brakes on and looked up in horror.

Hanging from a rope connected to one of the bigger trees along the road was a man. He had a Blackshirt uniform on his body and a brown bag over his head; around his neck a sign was hung which read “may God Almighty forgive me for my sins”. The wind made the corpse dangle a little, while still facing them all. Alexei turned around to face the traveler, his face emotionless. He stood silently for a few seconds, while the Blackshirts still looked up at the body.

“Vladimir appeared to be a patriot for most of his life, comrades.” Alexei noted solemnly. The Blackshirts turned around to face the Vozhd. “He joined our organization at a young age, arrived at every meeting early and honed his body physically in the name of the eternal struggle those of strong will must endure. So many of you looked up to him, and thus for many of you his passing is intensely sad. But the moment our good friend, the traveler, arrived at our headquarters, his true colors showed. He asked them about the nature of their gender, and when they responded, he responded “Oh, ok”.” He gave his former comrade in arms a weak, pathetic voice when he imitated him. “The devil himself could be right before him and all he could do is smile and sit silently while legions of patriots battle the foe! And comrades, let us not forget that Dante spoke of a circle of hell reserved just for those who stood idly by while evil walked the earth!” The Blackshirts nodded in agreement.

“You killed him over that?” Kino interrupted.

“Being craven creates the same results as betrayal, and deserves the same punishment. You’d understand that if it wasn’t for the deadly combination of naivety on the part of the believers, and trickery on the part of the Devil-Cosmopolitan world order.”

“You think I’m naïve?”

“Anyone who believes that the secrets to life can be gleaned from learning the customs of barbaric and stupid peoples is either a fool or a tyrant. The new movements of the future have found purpose without travelling the earth and submitting the flesh to the whims of the Prince of Darkness! Our movement in particular has recognized that nature knows no political boundaries. She places life forms on this globe and then sets them free in a play for power. The struggle is not an element of life; it is life! Surely, you recognize this all from your journey across the earth!” He barked. Kino sighed.

“Sort of.”

“You see! I - hold on, what do you mean by that?” He asked, his voice mellowing out.

“I agree that the world can be a cruel and awful place. But to say that kindness and compassion cannot be found is self-evidently wrong. I have seen the best and worst of man so many times that to make such sweeping judgements would be foolish on my part. A traveler can only really assert that, despite everything, the world is a beautiful place. If you saw more of this world, you would know this truth.” Kino asserted confidently. Alexei pointed at the traveler.

“Comrades, listen closely to all that. That is word for word the philosophy of the Devil-Cosmopolitan. They tricked humans into believing that the struggle and life were separate; by abandoning faith in a cause in the name of “reason” and “worldliness”, they cloud the minds of good normal people in order to prey upon them. If they succeeded, the human race would cease to exist, and the Devil would triumph. Therefore, traveler, I believe myself to be acting according to the wishes of the Creator. Insofar as I restrain the Cosmopolitan, I am defending the work of the Lord.” As the Vozhd lectured to the traveler and his men, a truck could be seen driving closer to where they were with Blackshirts riding along the side. Kino wanted to leave as soon as possible.

“Is that everything you wanted to say, then?” Kino asked. Alexei smiled.

“Tired of us already?” He asked.

“If I wanted to listen to criminals coming up with excuses for their crimes, I’d visit a prison.” Kino shot back. They were sick to their stomach.

“Really, now? How many people have you killed in your travels, Kino?”

“I don’t keep count. I’d rather not think about that.”

“Of course. Just like everyone else, you justify the string of corpses that follow you in the name of survival. Not to pity the dead or believe in something greater, but just so you can sleep at night. Such an intensely selfish philosophy; my movement has made no illusions in regards to the use of violence, but at least we have something higher than that.” Kino’s blood boiled as the Vozhd spoke, his voice perfectly calm but filled with a venomous, quiet hatred. As the truck came to a stop, the Blackshirts around Alexei began to board it. “It’s good you came this way. We were supposed to merely hold the flanks during the battle, but internal matters come first. I-” As Alexei slowly stepped towards Kino, the traveler un-holstered their revolver and aimed it from the hip at him, their left hand ready to fan the hammer if needed. Alexei stopped moving and smirked; he could see that the traveler was sweating. “No need for that. I made a promise to Yukio that I wouldn’t lay a finger on you, so I won’t. But, I want to make something clear. As long as I live, I will never surrender to your kind. Never.” As he finished speaking, Kino holstered their weapon and drove away, swerving around the truck and speeding down the dirt road. Alexei knew in his heart that the Cosmopolitans trembled at the thought of men like him, those who seriously engaged in the revaluation of all values and the rejection of those who proclaimed the universal. Whatever the enemy was, be it traveler or Cosmopolitan, he knew their nature; they made a thousand promises, but kept none.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Kino? Are you alright?” Hermes asked. They had been driving for sometime now, and Kino hadn’t made a sound. They still looked nervous; when the sun pierced through the trees, Hermes could see what looked like water on their face. The traveler stayed silent.

“I don’t think what happened to that guy was your fault. That Alexei guy was just trying to pin the blame on someone else.” He said, trying to calm the traveler. They continued to stay silent, turning down a road which led to a beach. From the hill they were driving down, it looked empty of all life save for a few seagulls flying above. The traveler drove on until the end of the road; a concrete structure with a railing and a flight of stairs which led down onto the beach itself. The traveler quietly dismounted the motorrad and slowly walked forward to the stairs.

“Kino, you know that that guy was just trying to upset you. Nothing he said was remotely true, or-”

“Enough, Hermes!” Kino shouted, turning around to face Hermes. Their face was flushed, and little droplets of water dripped down their cheek. The traveler sounded angry, but Hermes could tell that it wasn't meant to come off as mean. This was a different kind of fury. Kino seemed to regret it almost immediately, wiping their eyes with the sleeves of their coat. “I’m sorry. I just - I need some time to myself, to clear my head. I’m - I’m sorry.” They muttered, much quieter than before. Quickly running down the stairs, Kino felt like a coward; they couldn’t save that stupid Blackshirt who didn’t know any better, they couldn’t confront Alexei or Yukio for their crimes against humanity, they couldn’t even explain to their friend how they were feeling. They either ran or kept it out of their mind, because it wasn’t their problem. But now, it so evidently was. Or was any of that correct? Was this just a panicked mind unable to make sense of what was before them? Were they such a failure that they couldn’t even see that they were a failure?

As they reached the ground, Kino didn’t want to move any further. They sat down next to the wall, huddled up and put their head into their arms as the tears came down and their stoic persona crumbled. _At least Hermes won’t have to see me like this,_ they thought.


	2. The main human strength is willpower!

The rifles in the distance roared in triumph as the enemy began to flee from the field of battle. Soldiers with gas masks and black uniforms ran with their tails tucked between their legs as the line was broken by the advance of armored infantry and tanks, while the screech and boom of heavy artillery demolished every last trace of their fortifications. The armored infantry dismounted, shooting and stabbing the few who didn’t retreat or surrender, while their officer planted a red banner into the ground, signifying the victory of their side. Soldiers shouted in joy, shooting in celebration or hugging their comrades while tanks drove on by. One soldier, a messenger with a broken radio, scurried in the opposite direction, weaving through clumps of men and the mechanized columns. The air was filled with the chatter of logistics officers and the orders of commanders, still trying to stay on top of things even in victory. Running up the hill, he could see his location; the tent had large red banners poking out from each of its four corners, and surrounding it were heavily armed guards. The messenger saluted the men; they saluted back, opening the flaps of the tent for him. As he entered, he took a moment to breathe, then shouted “Grand Marshal, victory is ours!”, only to pass out from exhaustion.

As the guards picked up the poor messenger and moved him to the medical quarters, the man in the tent looked up and sighed in relief. He had his doubts as to whether his plan would work; Sadao was quite the weasel on the battlefield, and for all his talk of total war and no surrender he knew how to get out of anything. But once again, the superiority of deep battle tactics had been proven, and the attempted raid on their outposts failed thanks to the courage and prowess of the People’s Red Army. Marshal Hashimoto rose from his chair, put on his officer’s cap and grabbed his pistol from one of the drawers and holstered it; better safe than sorry. As he stepped out of the tent, the medals which lined every row of his uniform glistened in the sun, and the guards saluted and stood to attention the second he opened the flaps. He straightened out his uniform and cracked his knuckles as the wind gently blew on through. 

“At ease!” He ordered; the guards obliged. “Get me a jeep to the frontline and a radio to Ivan, stat!” The guards sprinted, one heading towards a column of trucks, jeeps and tanks and the other heading to the medical bay. He waited and watched as the guard quickly flagged down a jeep and got them to drive up the hill and park in front of Hashimoto. As he sat down in the back, the other guard quickly handed him a radio and sat beside him, holding the box it was connected to. “Ivan, what’s the situation?”

“The enemy is in total retreat, sir! Me and the armored corps are just mopping up the remnan- oh, hold that thought.” Hashimoto could hear over the radio the sounds of an enemy officer ordering a bayonet charge, followed by a quick burst of fire from a belt-fed persuader. “Apologies, sir. As I was saying, we’re currently dealing with the remaining combatants.”

“Really? As opposed to supporting the infantry taking the trenchline?” He asked.

“No- uh, of course not, Grand Marshal. We-”

“Get your men to position and get the reserves to take your place immediately. Are my orders clear?” 

“Y-yessir, we shall do that.”

“Do not disobey orders again, Ivan.” He said, hanging up the radio. “Stupid kid. He’ll get himself killed one of these days.” Hashimoto muttered. _What was it with these armored generals and their disobedience?_ , he thought. _Did all of them just start reading about blitzkrieg and start thinking they could take on Sadao and his legions all by themselves? And why are they still calling me Grand Marshal?! I gave explicit orders to be referred to as Comrade-Marshal, out of respect to the revolutionary principles of equality and liberty. That stupid git needs a talking to._

The jeep drove on, while soldiers on the march or resting shouted in joy as they saw their hero drive on by. He could hear all the nicknames they gave him; the People’s Marshal, the Red Napoleon, Generalissimo, the Bringer of Victory, etc. All positive, sure, but he hated it all; they all sounded so pretentious and pathetic. He was called Hashimoto as a child and he would die with the name Hashimoto; that was the end of that! Still, their enthusiasm for victory was infectious, and Hashimoto smiled and waved as they drove on by, which was met by even more cheering by the soldiers. As the rifles continued to crackle in the air, he could even hear the band playing triumphantly, with the soldiers singing along. They needed a victory like this.

The jeep drove onto the open road, and Hashimoto looked out upon the gorgeous scenery; the beach seemed to go on for miles on end, the only living thing he could see on it being seagulls. The sea seemed so peaceful in comparison to everything around it; a predictable ebb and flow to the tides compared to the anarchy of combat. A part of Hashimoto envied it; but who else was going to protect and lead his men? The jeep came to a stop, and as he stepped out he could see Ivan speaking to his men from atop his tank. Hashimoto remembered how the party cadres used to joke that the only reason he had been promoted was because he was the only one who could shut Ivan up; he hated that joke, but it had a grain of truth to it.

“... and for that reason, the imperialist vermin cannot comprehend the superiority and strength of the revolution. They preached racial and military supremacy, yet cower like rats before our firepower. They thought they could bully us into submission! They thought we’d give way and fall! But today, we’ve shown them that the People’s Red Army bows to no one!” He bellowed as planes from the air force soared over. The soldiers roared in support, and as they saw Marshal Hashimoto approach on foot, they swarmed him, thankful for his leadership.

“Thank you, thank you… Right, move out of the way, lads! Me and Ivan have some talking to do!” Hashimoto ordered. Ivan jumped down from the tank and shook the Marshal’s hand. “Good work, Ivan.”

“This victory is on you, Grand Marshal.”

“Nonsense! It was the courage and strength of every individual soldier that made today possible!” He shouted. Every soldier seemed to beam with pride as Hashimoto spoke of them. “Now, Ivan, let’s get somewhere private, we ne-”

“Comrade-Marshal!” A voice shouted. Hashimoto looked over to see one of the party commissars, his blue pants sticking out like a sore thumb. “A great victory for the proletariat!”

“Yes, very good. What is it?” Hashimoto asked impatiently.

“One of my officers informed me that you refused to allow us to look over the documents on individual morale and motivation.”

“That I did.” He responded bluntly. The commissar face was turning red.

“You do understand how important discipline is to all parts of the revolution, yes?” He lectured. Hashimoto groaned.

“Oh, get off your high horse. My soldiers aren’t less disciplined because they won’t let your goons shoot every soldier who disagrees with them! Know your place.”

“Comrade-Marshal, we both know that since Party Directive A227 that the commissars role has been changed to function as military police and not as they did previously. You know I couldn’t shoot your men even if I wanted to.”

“I’ve read the bloody document, mate. It also says that while in the field, you answer to me. So bugger off before I bust your kneecaps open, alright?” Hashimoto shot back. 

“I’ll be taking this to Paramount Leader Kazuo. This isn’t the end of this.” He said, walking away. Hashimoto chuckled.

“Pricks like him think they can just get what they want just because they’re friends with the party. Ivan, let’s take this somewhere private, yes?”

“Certainly, Grand Marshal.”

“And don’t call me that again.”

“Of course, G-Comrade-Marshal.” Ivan said, quickly correcting himself. The two walked some distance from the soldiers, until they found themselves standing amongst some reeds on a hill overlooking the beach. 

“Ivan, I want to understand why you disobeyed orders and left the attacking infantry unsupported by your units. I’m smiling, but I’m very furious.” He said sternly. 

“I apologize. It won’t happen again.”

“I get that you apologize, but I want to know why.”

“I thought that we’d do better if we attacked the flanks. Most of their anti-tank weapons were facing the front, so we could lessen our casualties while taking them by surprise.”

“Ivan, the job of tanks in operations like these is to take hits. They need to act as support for the infantry while they advance. Your recklessness meant that five of our heavy tanks that were supposed to be in reserve got pulled out and destroyed. Five! We only have three left in this entire formation left until the next shipment, and the poor bastards who burned up in them could have lived.”

“Death is to be expected in combat.”

“That is not an excuse!” Hashimoto shouted. “If you feel that way, why don’t you go write the letters then? Tell their parents about how your stupid maneuvers got their kid roasted like a turkey! But hey, that’s life, isn’t it?!”

“I’m sorry, Comrade-Marshal. You’re right.” Ivan apologized. Hashimoto sighed and looked up. 

“We fight war because we know that someday our victories will end war. It’s a contradictory philosophy, but it's the only one that makes sense. The only way our revolutionary nation will survive is if every enemy is defeated in battle. If we can’t do that, then the cycle continues; or worse, Yukio and his collaborators win. Every part of the Red Army must be devoted to this goal, or else we fail. You understand this, yes?” Hashimoto placed his hands on Ivan’s shoulders. “You’re a good kid. You understand tanks better than any Politburo moron or commissar ever could. But we must act in unison, or-” Before he could continue talking, the Marshal could hear what sounded like someone crying. He started looking around, confused.

“Is something the matter, Comrade-Marshal?” Ivan questioned.

“You hear that?” He asked.

“Hear wha-” Hashimoto indicated to shut up by placing his finger over his lips. The two stood silently for a second, waiting for a sound. Hashimoto slowly placed his hands on the holster of his pistol, and Ivan swatted at a fly buzzing around his ear. Again, Hashimoto could hear what sounded like crying; it was very quiet, but he picked it up right away. “Comrade-Marshal?”

“What is it?”

“Does that motorrad over there belong to any of our men?” Ivan asked, pointing to a lone motorrad propped up on the railing of some concrete structure.

“Didn’t you have a motorrad recon company under your command?”

“Yes, but they don’t use models that old. And it would need a sidecar for whoever's using the belt-fed persuader.”

“So not your men, then?”

“Couldn’t be. Is it a civie?”

“Not just that, Ivan. It could be a traveler.” Hashimoto moved his hand away from his pistol and stood up straight. 

“Really? I’ve never met one.”

“And you won’t today. Let me do the talking.” Before Ivan could protest, Hashimoto moved forward. Ivan grumbled something, then walked behind him. As the two stood on the structure, Ivan glared at the motorrad.

“Definitely not one of mine. No military marking, and like I said before, the thing is way too old.” Ivan remarked.

“I’m not that old.” A quiet voice responded. Ivan and Hashimoto looked around for a second, trying to identify who talked. “Could you stay quiet, please? My rider is not in the mood.”

“Did the motorrad just talk?” Hashimoto asked.

“My name’s Hermes, and yes. Now quiet down, please!” Hermes asked of the two. Hashimoto shrugged.

“Alright, fair enough.” He whispered. “Why’s your friend upset?”

“They’ve had a rough couple of days. It all just kind of came together today.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Hashimoto said. “Could I try and talk to your traveler friend, then?”

“If you can help, sure. Not that I could stop you, of course.” Hermes joked. 

“Very well. Ivan, guard the motorrad and radio my jeep and an infantry platoon to guard this area. I’m going in.” He ordered, walking down the stairs of the structure. Ivan wanted to yell at him for leaving him on guard duty, but he remained quiet, walking over to where his men were. Hashimoto thought carefully about how to approach this; he’d had to help shell shocked soldiers before, so he had some experience in this field. That being said, that was a different case altogether, and he didn’t even really know what had happened to the person. Hashimoto thought back to the times he talked his daughter through whatever stress and worries they had; _talk softly, work slowly but surely through whatever issue they’re having, present a solution and release the tension with a well-timed joke_ , he thought. _What a strategy!_

As he walked down the stairs, he turned the corner and stopped, looking down the flight of stairs to the ground below. Hashimoto could see a person sitting along the wall of the structure, their face buried into their legs. They were sitting on a brown trench coat and wearing an army green coat and tan pants. Underneath a hunting hat, strands of brown hair could be seen poking out. Listening closer, the Marshal could hear a subdued sniffle coming from them; he wondered whether they even knew anything about the battle raging around them. Hashimoto gently stepped down the stairs to get closer, reaching the end and straightening out his collar.

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly. The person before him looked up and seemed a bit startled at first, jumping from their seat. However, they quickly cooled down, wiping their eyes with their sleeves and straightening out their coat. The face of the individual was flushed, and some parts of their cheek were still wet. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“No, i-it’s fine. Who are you?”

“The name’s Hashimoto. Mind if I sit with you?” The general asked. The stranger nodded, sitting back down on their coat. Hashimoto plopped down next to them. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Kino.” They responded. 

“Good to meet you, Kino. Tell me, comrade, what's got you so upset? Was it the battle?”

“Battle? No, I made sure to avoid that. Besides, I’d rather not burden anyone else.” Kino responded. Hashimoto smiled.

“You need not worry about that. The troubles of life are often best faced with someone else backing you up.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m certain.”

“Well, okay.” Kino took a deep breath. “So, I’m a traveler. I go from country to country and stay for three days, all the while learning what I can. About cultures, peoples, their worldviews, things like that. I recently visited a country not too far from here where the main city was underground. Are you familiar with them?”

“Of course. My country is currently at war with them.”

“Oh. Well… that explains your uniform, then.” Kino noted. Hashimoto chuckled; the traveler didn’t mean it as a joke, but he liked it regardless. “The second day I was there, their leader, Yukio-”

“Self-righteous prick. Kills my boys then le- sorry, sorry. Continue.” Hashimoto grumbled.

“He had invited me to talk as a part of some tourism program. While I was driving there, I got captured by a group of people known as the Blackshirts and was put on “trial”, by a man they called their “Vozhd”, Alexei.”

“Stupid traitorous git. Ranting on about the superio- apologies.”

“As you expressed so elegantly, he did speak for time about his theories. At one point, one of the Blackshirts asked whether I was male or female, and I told them that I just prefer to be called by my name.”

“I bet he loved that.” Hashimoto said sarcastically.

“Well, that's the thing. The guy asking the question seemed fine with it. Alexei wasn’t, of course, but that Blackshirt seemed okay with that. To my surprise, I got out of it unscathed, thanks to this general lobbying on my behalf named Sadao.”

“Worst of that triumvirate! That sneaky rat fu- I am so sorry, kid. I didn't mean to say all that.” Kino chuckled a bit at the general’s anger. Hashimoto was happy to hear the traveler cheer up a bit, even if it was at his expense. “A lot of passion and anger on the war front, that's my bad.”

“No worries. Earlier today, I had another encounter with Alexei, which was somehow even less pleasant. Because of the battle, I had to take a back road to avoid all that. Along that road, I saw Alexei and his men had hung the Blackshirt who asked the question. I just wanted to get by, but Alexei was intent on lecturing about the greatness of his cause to me.”

“He loves to do that. Who needs torture when you can bore your enemies to death!” The marshal remarked.

“At this point, Hashimoto, I’ve gotten a bit sick of all this. I tell him that his arguments about the nature of life are wrong, and that the world is not just a place where animals fight to the death, but a beautiful place. He - I can’t even put into words how much he seems to genuinely hate me. We barely know each other, but he spoke with such vitriol and anger; about how I was in league with the devil and how he was following God’s will. At one point, he asks me how many people I’ve killed, and I tell him that I don’t keep count because I don’t want to think about that. He then says that that was typical; that I said this not because I cared about who died but just to keep my conscience clear. And what scares me is that I think he’s right. When I was younger, I would say that at the end of the day, what matters is whether I don’t die. It made sense then, but now it reeks of the overconfidence of youth. Me and Alexei have differing philosophies, but the result is the same; people die.”

“Well, there's no shame with acting in self-defense.”

“So what!” Kino shot back. “Half the people I’ve killed, if not more, could have said the same thing. Anyone - literally anyone - can tell themselves that, and it means nothing! And now, there is less life and more misery on this earth directly because of my actions! Just because I want to travel! Just because I decided to throw caution to the wind and roam the earth!” The traveler shouted. They sighed. “I even got some stupid kid killed because I wanted to be funny. I’m a monster.”

“Look at me, traveler.” Hashimoto responded. Kino looked up at him. “You are nothing like Alexei. That man is a traitor and a tyrant. In his country’s greatest hour of need, he abandoned it and brought with him weapons and money to give to the enemy. He has justified his cruelty and barbarism by claiming that the world is like that, and anyone who doesn’t follow that path is the embodiment of evil. Claiming that humans are ethical, that there are duties that we all have to one another, is proof enough for him to conclude that you are an agent of hell. The very fact that you are wondering aloud as to whether your actions are just is what makes you different; you have empathy, he doesn’t.” Hashimoto said confidently. 

“You sound so sure of yourself.” Kino muttered. Hashimoto smiled.

“Why wouldn’t I? Kino, let me tell you a story. When I was about your age - maybe a bit younger - I had a friend named Dmitri. Everyone liked him; he was kind, intelligent, funny and incredibly handsome. One day, me and him were at my house to study for a test, but by the time my father had come back, it had progressed to a-” Hashimoto struggled to find words to explain himself. _Look at yourself, blushing like a schoolgirl!_ He thought. _You’ve been married to that bloke for years now and you still act like this!_

“I understand what you're trying to say.” The traveler said. Hashimoto breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank God. You're a lifesaver, kid.” He quipped. “When my father found out about all that, I was immediately trying to apologize. Growing up, he was a classical military man, you see; firm and uncompromisingly traditional. I was on the verge of tears when he sat me down and told me something. He said that while he didn’t exactly understand what I had done, he said that my first instinct should never be to apologize for who I was. He says, “Son, the greatest and most important virtue is courage. Without bravery, all other virtues are nothing more than thoughts dangling in the mind.” Consider yourself, traveler! It takes real guts to go out into the world and face it like you do. You faced down Alexei and told him he was wrong to his face, while so many people would cower in that position!” Kino couldn’t help but appreciate how this strange man had gone out of their way to sit down and talk things out, even if they didn’t agree with everything he said. “How long do you stay in a country, comrade?”

“Three days, no longer.” Hashimoto grinned hearing that.

“I tell you what. I have a spare room at my house. How about you come with me? I can give you a tour of my country, and you could clear your mind.” He offered.

“You're too kind. I couldn’t.”

“Nonsense, comrade! You deserve some rest after all that.” He responded. The traveler smiled.

“If you insist.” They responded, standing up and picking up their coat. The marshal was happy to see them take up the offer. The two walked up the stairs and watched as Ivan quietly spoke to one of the commissars of the infantry unit. Seeing the two, he waved to them and walked over.

“How’d it go?”

“Just fine. Kino, this is Ivan, commander and loudmouth. Ivan, this is Kino, a traveler and guest to our country.”

“Is that so?” He asked, shaking their hands. “Pleasure to meet you, comrade.”

“Now Ivan, I’m going to be away for a moment to make sure the rest of the convoy knows they are with me. If you start lecturing about politics to them, I’ll rip your spine out.”

“Of course, Comrade-Marshal!” Ivan responded cheerily. Hashimoto walked away from the two, barking orders at some of the infantry. Kino noticed that Ivan had slung around his shoulder a strange-looking persuader; it was painted completely black, and sported three barrels and a large magazine stored in the butt of the rifle. 

“I’ve never seen a rifle like that.” Kino said.

“Oh this?” Ivan unholstered the rifle and held it out before him. “It’s a beauty. The TKB-059, or as some of my men call it, the Lawnmower.”

“The Lawnmower?”

“Yup. Because it cuts grass and imperialists!” Ivan chuckled; the traveler stayed silent. “So, Kino, why are you a traveler?”

“To travel. See the world, learn about people’s beliefs, stuff like that.”

“Other people’s beliefs? Glad to hear that you have an open mind. Say, are you at all familiar with the works of Iosif Stalin?”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“... now, what we must keep in mind is that the class struggle actually accelerates the closer we get to achieving our goals.” Ivan lectured to the traveler. Despite Hashimoto’s best efforts, Ivan had not shut up, and continued to expound his philosophy and readings to those who listened. He, the traveler and the marshal were now riding in a jeep back to the country, and Hermes had been strapped to the back. Alongside them were the motorized and tank columns under Ivan’s command, trying to listen to what their commander had to say. “Thus, the state must meet the demands of the process by rapidly increasing its powers in order to ensure the defense of the revolution. Otherwise, the risk for counterrevolution increases. You know what I mean, Kino?”

“No offense, but I’m a bit lost. How would a peaceful transition of power intensify the struggle?”

“Because the reactionaries would see the weaker nature of the state and exploit it.”

“But according to what you said earlier, wouldn’t the state have already dealt with these “reactionaries”, as you call them?”

“Hatred of the revolution can spring up anywhere, sadly. It’s something that must be guarded against on all fronts.”

“Ivan, I think you’ve confused the traveler.” Hashimoto interrupted. “Maybe cool it on the buzzwords.”

“They’re not buzzwords, Comrade-Marshal. The party and its vision of the future must be understood by as many as possible if our revolution is to succeed.”

“You're speaking as if the party even knows who this Stalin guy is. Neither Andrei or Kazuo has ever mentioned him in a speech.”

“Well, Andrei embodied his spirit and ideas, whether he knew or not. World-historical figures often don’t know that they’re world-historical. And Kazuo would probably condemn his genius as counterrevolutionary, as if he knew how to run a country.” Ivan said.

“Watch your tongue, officer. We all have disagreements, but we don’t express it while in uniform.” Hashimoto scolded. 

“I don’t mean to interrupt,” Kino said, causing Ivan to turn and face them, “but who are these two men you mentioned? I remember Alexei saying something about them.”

“Alexei? What kind of company are you keeping, traveler?” Asked Ivan skeptically.

“Well, I got kidnapped by him.”

“Oh. There you go, then.” Ivan said, much quieter now. “Andrei was the man who led the revolutionary party to victory all those years ago. As Paramount Leader of our union, he envisioned a future without poverty, corruption or oppression, and fought for it with every breath.”

“I’ve seen a lot of death in my time, traveler, but that was a loss.” Hashimoto noted. It was the first time the traveler saw him and Ivan agree on anything.

“And what of Kazuo?” The traveler asked. Ivan scoffed at the question.

“He would weaken the state and its forces when we need it most.” He lectured. “All this talk of instating “revolutionary elections” is a cancer on the war effort. He’s even let a bloody priest in th-” 

“Ivan!” Hashimoto shouted.

“Sorry, Comrade-Marshal.”

“If you have disagreements with party policy, voice them at home. I do plenty of that as is.”

“Looking forward to it.” Hermes remarked sarcastically. Kino was going to scold him for being rude before Hashimoto laughed.

“Your friend’s got a sense of humor! That’s good, that’s very good!”

“He needs to work on his timing, but Hermes is not bad.” Kino responded as the marshal continued to giggle. “Humor’s good to have, especially when traveling.”

“I bet. Say, you said you got kidnapped by Alexei, right? How’d they get you, then?” Ivan inquired.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, a lot of the people they arrest there are because of references.”

“References?”

“Oh, you don’t know?” Hashimoto asked. “In order to keep social order and stop the populace from revolting, they have this thing called “the culture”. It’s basically a way of identifying threats from outside by seeing whether they know certain cultural facts or tidbits. Did anyone ask you any weird questions?”

“Yes, actually. I was getting gas for Hermes when the guy running the place asked me if I understood the name of the place. When I told him I didn’t, he acted weird and walked away.”

“That must have been it. What a sick place.” Ivan muttered.

“It wasn’t all bad. The food was nice.” Hashimoto laughed again at the traveler’s response.

“You’re gonna love Dmitri’s cooking! For an armaments minister, the man cooks like no one’s business!”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As the jeep approached the country, Kino could already begin to see their technological achievements. Airplanes, something they had only seen once or twice in their life, were patrolling the skies above, armed to the teeth with belt-fed persuaders and bombs. Towers with glass panels shot up into the sky, and a large dome with a statue of a man in uniform towered above all. As they got closer, guards armed with the Lawnmower persuader looked over and grinned as they could see Comrade-Marshal Hashimoto approach. Finally arriving at the gates, Hashimoto informed them that his traveler friend would be staying for three days at his house; and by informed, they meant ordered. 

“Anyone who messes with the traveler will answer to me, got it?!” He shouted. The soldiers nodded in agreement. “Good. Now do your duties and make it quick. On the double!” The guards quickly ran through their procedures, cataloging the persuaders on Kino and informing them of the laws surrounding weapon ownership. The door opened, and the jeep drove onwards through the streets. Most of the buildings within the country looked quite normal, especially in comparison to what soared above them. The street would have been busy, the driver mentioned, but the Presidium was hosting a public meeting, and those always brought at least most of the city. The jeep pulled to a stop before a small house along the side, with a picket fence surrounding a small patio. As Kino and Ivan carefully brought Hermes to the ground, an older man in casual attire stepped out from the building. He smiled and waved, his grey hair glistening in the sun. 

“Back from the campaign, huh?” He said, walking out and sticking out his hands to hug Hashimoto. The marshal hugged him back and smiled.

“Sure am. A complete success all around!” He bragged. “I also made a new friend. Dmitri, that’s Kino; they’re a traveler, and they’ll be staying in the guest room for the next couple of days.”

“No problem. Although, it's a bit dirty. I’ll have to go clean it up right now.” He noted.

“I can help with that!” The traveler said, raising their voice a little and tugging Hermes alongside them.

“No need! You're our guest, not a servant.” Dmitri responded, walking back inside the house.

“Is there enough room for Hermes?” They asked Hashimoto.

“He’ll be just fine. Not to worry.” He insisted. The marshal, the traveler and the motorrad walked into the house, leaving Ivan and the driver to their business.

The smooth wooden floors seemed to hold Hermes just fine, and Kino was relieved to be in a building with air-conditioning. The building itself was surprisingly quaint for the house of an armaments minister and a general; the paintings hung up were not of battles or industry, but of the countryside and normal farmers. A few books could be seen scattered about, with names like “The Red Army and the Militia”, “From Farm to Factory: A Reinterpretation of Our Industrial Revolution” and “The Two Tasks of the Ultravisionary Party”. Above the fireplace hung two portraits, which labelled them as Paramount Leaders Andrei and Kazuo. Andrei looked like he wanted to kill someone, and was wearing a white uniform with an army cap; the uniform had been decorated with medals and jewelry of all kinds. Kazuo, on the other hand, was wearing a simple business suit and had a gentle smile on his face. As Kino and Hermes looked at the portraits, Hashimoto walked up and smiled.

“Admiring the artwork?” Hashimoto asked. “Got these ages ago. Probably my favorite paintings of the two.”

“I remember you saying that you weren’t enthusiastic about Kazuo. Any reason why?” Kino asked. Hashimoto sighed.

“He’s a good kid, honestly. It’s just… he can be a bit short-sighted on some issues. Ask him about the sciences or civilian economics, and he’s the smartest guy in the room, hands down. Ask him about military matters or foreign policy and… well, I dunno.” He stood there silently for a moment, looking at the portrait. “Enough about that, we can save the bickering about politics for later. How are you holding up, comrade?”

“A bit better. Thanks again.”

“Not a problem. If you need anything, just holler.”

“Not really a yeller, I’m afraid.”

“What? I couldn’t tell.” Hashimoto teased. The door to one of the rooms opened and out came Dmitri carrying a broom, giving a thumbs up to the two. Kino pulled Hermes along inside; much like the rest of the house it was very humble, with a small bed and table with a radio. A window looking out on the street was right across from the bed, and a small picture of a soldier in uniform hung on the wall. Kino gently rested Hermes up along the wall and sat on the bed, feeling the blankets and mattress. “Any complaints?” Dmitri asked. 

“No, this is fine. Thank you.”

“Glad to hear it. Me and Hashimoto are going to get cooking supplies, so we’ll be back in just a bit, alright?” The traveler nodded in response. He smiled. “Excellent, comrade. Take care.” He gently shut the door to the room. As Kino rested their head on the pillow of the bed, they could hear the door to the house close.

“They seem nice.” Hermes said. “A bit energetic, sure, but in a good way.”

“Yeah. Guess you have to be if you're the head of an army.”

“Hey, Kino?”

“What is it?”

“Um, I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For… you know, kinda setting you off back there.”

“You didn’t set me off. I lost my cool; that’s what happened.” They responded. Hermes was confused.

“Oh. Well, are you feeling better, at least?” He asked. “After you left, I thought I could hear you crying.”

“You what?” Kino asked, ashamed and embarrassed. “N-no, of course not. Why would I-”

“You’re a good friend, Kino, but a terrible liar. You’ve always been better at being honest.” Hermes remarked. Kino covered their face with their hands; the one thing they were worried about happening happened. 

“I just don’t know, Hermes. The last couple of days have been something else. Do you mind if I just turn the radio on? I think I just need to get my mind off of all that.”

“Sure thing. Whatever makes you happy.”

“Thanks.” The traveler turned the dials on it and the lights within the machine turned on.

“-And in other news, we have a story coming in from the enemy home front.” The radioman said. “According to inside sources, tensions have flared up between Yukio’s government and the collaborationist Patriotic Exile Government, led by their “Vozhd”, Alexei.”

“Are you sure you want to listen to this, Kino?” Hermes asked, audibly worried.

“Yes. Now quiet down for just a second.”

“Alexei has claimed that a “agent of the Devil-Cosmopolitan world order” attempted to sneak into the city and kill Yukio. In a rally held after the battle outside of the city, Alexei spoke to thousands about the loss and blamed government inaction for the result.”

“The Cosmopolitan has constantly attempted to create a divide between politics and the sciences, fooling the honest worker and farmer into believing that the struggle of his race and the day-to-day miseries of parliamentary politics are separate matters. Even the great Yukio has failed in this regard, letting travelers armed to the teeth with weapons walk around without a care. I have seen the horrors of war and know first hand the laws that govern nature, and I can say with absolute certainty that anyone who tells you otherwise is lying to you and themselves!” The Vozhd shouted, while the crowd cheered. “Your government, supposedly divorced from the trappings of democracy, still invests more money into agricultural subsidies than the military! It has thrown off the shackles of the Cosmopolitan order, but it is still beholden to their lies! But we, comrades, shall not let this be for long. I say that as long as the social revolutionaries besiege this great fortress of culture and civilization, that every man shall do their duty! Let us all lift up our voices to these mongrels and send a message to all the world: We. Soar. Again!” The crowd went wild at the end, breaking out into cheering and chanting. Kino sighed.

“Yukio’s government has yet to issue a public response to these statements, but the rapidly increased crowd size along with the expansion of the Blackshirts indicate that they are becoming a seri-” Kino shut off the radio.

“That was a bad idea.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Kino lay in bed, they could hear Dmitri and Hashimoto return and begin to cook. They could hear the clanking of pots and pans and the oven being turned on, while the two discussed how best to prepare the meal. The traveler realized that they hadn’t even taken off their coat and hat before laying in bed. Kino slowly rose from the bed and placed their trench coat and hat to the side, straightening out their shirt and attempting to fix their hair. Despite their best efforts, some of it still poked out in different directions.

“It doesn’t look that bad.” Hermes consoled. “Besides, this isn’t exactly formal.”

“That doesn’t matter. I’m not looking like a slob no matter what’s going on.” Kino responded, brushing their hair. “Looking professional is so important to what we do.”

“Well, I’m sure those two won’t mind. Besides, your hair was messy when you met Yukio or whatever his name was.”

“Hermes, that was because for the hour or so before I couldn’t move my hands because they were tied behind my back. Had none of that happened, it would have been fine. But, here we are.” As Kino finished speaking, the two could hear the sound of a piano and horns playing from somewhere. The door opened and Dmitri leaned in. 

“Hungry?” The traveler nodded. “Excellent. Come out when you're ready.” Kino followed behind him, wheeling Hermes along, and stepped out to see a table set out with plates already filled up with steak, broccoli and baked potatoes. Hashimoto was already sitting, and as Dmitri and Kino sat down, he leaned in close to Dmitri.

“Dmitri, I think we made extra. Why is there a fourth plate?” He asked.

“Oh, that. Yeah, I invited Ivan over.”

“You- Dmitri, no. Why would-”

“Come on, you like the guy. He’s not all bad.”

“Sure, but as soon as he finishes eating, if not sooner, he’s gonna ramble on about Stalin or whoever!”

“Hashimoto, he’s a good kid. Everyone’s passionate about some-” The doorbell rang, interrupting Dmitri. “That’s him, I’ll get it.” He rose from his seat, walked to the door and opened; standing there was Ivan, his blonde hair combed to the side and wearing a black dress shirt and pants. “Good to see you, Ivan! How’s your mom?”

“Just fine, thanks.” He responded politely. The two walked in and sat down. “Hashimoto, traveler, good to see you.” Kino smiled, and Hashimoto grumbled something which no one could translate. The group ate the food; as Hashimoto bragged earlier, the quality of Dmitri’s cooking was no joke. The steak itself was perfectly cooked, making every bite that much juicer, and the sides were similarly made with care. Kino looked to see the music coming from a shelf near the fireplace; a record player was propped up, with an album cover resting next to it. For a while, the hum of the music and the clanking of utensils were the only noises being made in the house. It was a nice change of pace for Kino and Hermes. 

“Hey, uh, traveler… sorry, what’s your name again?” Ivan asked.

“Kino.”

“Kino! Right, sorry. I was wondering whether you had any stories from traveling?”

“Quite a few, actually. Do you have a preference, or…”

“Nope. Just whatever’s interesting.”

“Ok. Well, I once visited a country which had a law which said that any who entered had to fight to leave it.”

“Really? Sounds scary.” Ivan commented. Dmitri and Hashimoto continued to dig away at their food.

“A bit, yeah. Those who refused to participate in the duels were made slaves to their king.”

“Did Yukio make friends with this guy?” Ivan quipped. Dmitri chuckled while Hashimoto remained silent.

“Now, I had made a rule that no matter what happened, I wasn’t going to kill any of my opponents. I assumed, often correctly, that they were like me; at the wrong place at the wrong time. They would be forced to surrender, and that was that. I didn’t think I could do it, but thankfully I had my pieces to make it happen.”

“Eh, your pieces?” Ivan asked.

“My persuaders.” Kino responded, pulling out their revolver and pistol. Ivan’s eyes bugged out as the weapons came into view.

“Woah, woah, woah. No weapons at the table, please.” Dmitri said.

“Apologies.” They responded, holstering the persuaders. 

“Was that a Colt Walker, traveler?” Hashimoto asked. Kino nodded. “Never got to try one of those. Mind if I give it a shot at some point? We have a firing range at the Red Army headquarters.”

“You mean Cannon? Sure, if I get to try that “Lawnmower” thing.”

“That piece of junk? I mean, sure, why not?” He responded; Ivan gritted his teeth. “Go on with your story.”

“A lot of the fighting was very intense. Knives, rapid-fire persuaders, flamethrowers, one guy even had a katana. His name… I used to know his name- Hermes, who was the brooding guy with the sword and the cute dog?” They asked.

“You mean Shizu? How many times have you met him by now?” Hermes teased.

“That’s it, Shizu! Anyways, it got particularly nasty after the king killed a woman who I had forced to surrender. He had gotten bored of seeing people surrender and thought it would be fun to shoot her himself. Then the final fight starts, and it's with Shizu. We fought, I blocked his sword with these metal plates I hid under my coat, it was a whole thing. I win, and I decide at this point that I actually might kill someone.”

“Holy hell, this Shizu guy was that bad?” Dmitri asked.

“No, he’s harmless. See, the night before, I had prepared a bullet with an incredibly dense propellent, so that it would explode on impact. I guessed that if I aimed it just past his head at where he was standing, the shot would sail right through the glass protection the king was sitting behind and kill him. To my surprise, it worked like a charm; his head blew right off.” The three men chuckled.

“Serves the prick right.” Hashimoto remarked.

“Agreed. Now, the special thing about the tournament is that whoever won got to come up with one new law for that country. And, since Shizu had surrendered, I was the winner. I put a lot of thought into what this country might need by now; the day before, I took a tour of the lower-class districts, which was illegal for fighters, and I had also seen how the king and his men lived. Worst of all, I had learned how the government had treated travelers before me, which was quite barbaric. So, the new rule was simple; the first-class citizens, those who benefited from the slave system and supported the king, would now have to fight each other to the death, and whoever was last alive would be crowned king.” Kino looked up from eating their food to see the three men looking back at them with shocked expressions, unsure as to what to say. Ivan laughed nervously.

“That’s a good joke, Kino. Like you said, humor helps with seeing the world an-and all that, right?” He was audibly anxious, talking quickly and tripping over his words. Kino smiled.

“That’s nice, but I wasn’t joking.” The men looked around at each other, confused and unsure how to approach this. 

“Kino, this all sounds a bit… well, wild. You just made the people there start killing each other? They couldn’t have just agreed to that.”

“I mean, fighting started as soon as I finished talking. Me and Hermes had to head right out of there to survive. Shiza did the same.”

“Shizu, Kino. Not Shiza.” Hermes corrected.

“Yeah, my bad.”

“But, traveler, just hold on just a second.” Ivan said. “Now, we here all don’t have much sympathy for exploitative ruling classes, especially those who use methods like slavery. But, class structures are often not strict, and can be quite fluid. Oftentimes, innocent and normal people find themselves as workers or agents for a king or despot just because, well, that’s how life happened to them. And let’s not forget the slaves and proletariat, who now could easily become the pawns of some would-be tyrant to mow down any opposition and become king. Surely, you put some kind of protective measure in regards to that, right?”

“I did. Those who fled the country lost citizenship, and those who harmed slaves or lower class workers would be disqualified. So no private armies or mass killings, like you said.”

“And how did you enforce this law, Kino?” Ivan pressed.

“Enforce? Well, I didn’t. The country had a tradition of following the rules no matter what, and considering how they started killing each other that quickly, I just assumed that everything was under control.”

“Under control?!” Ivan shouted, flabbergasted. “How do you see mass violence, the literal Hobbesian state of nature, the war of all against all, and think it's all se-”

“Lower your voice, please.” Dmitri said. “We’re all friends here.”

“Sorry, your right. I-”

“Ivan, with all do respect, you yourself said earlier that during periods of revolution, all reactionary forces need to be dealt with as rapidly and efficiently as possible.” Kino argued. “I basically did that, all the while ensuring the “proletariat” was removed from the violence. Whoever emerges would have to respect their authority because they would outnumber them totally. In a way, I did what Stalin said without having ever read him.” Hashimoto looked unbelievably hyped hearing those words coming out of Kino’s mouth; his side in the argument had flipped in a second. Ivan, on the other hand, was visibly struggling to keep his cool, repeatedly running his hands through his hair.

“First of all, Stalin would have never approved of such mass murder." Ivan responded, with all the fury and confidence of youth. "He recognized that collaborators, be they administrators, soldiers, nationalists, or whatever, were key to securing the gains of the revolution. Anyone who’s read his "Address to the Fifteenth Congress" knows that his argument was that the main focus was to disarm the opposition, not kill them.”

“A man once told me that world-historical figures often don’t know they’re world-historical.” Kino shot back. Hashimoto was laughing loudly, and Dmitri was trying to shut his husband up while laughing himself. _This is gonna end in tears, I just know it_ , Hermes thought to themselves.

“Secondly, what you did is not anywhere close to a proletarian revolution. It’s not even bourgeois; you put some noble who gets lucky at the head of the _Ancien Régime_ with all but some vague guarantee of worker’s rights. That’s an aristocratic coup following mass slaughter! Even if we assume that the upper class, who regularly subject those beneath them to the worst cruelties humanity can conjure, just magically respect this law you put forth, that is still a society which is traumatized from those horrors and has no method to deal with that. The proles and slaves have no visionary party to lead them to the future, the skilled managers are all dead and now you have people fleeing the country saying that some kid got everyone killed. Congratulations. And all for what exactly?”

“Well, to be honest, the king enjoyed seeing travelers get killed after being forced to join the tournament. He even asked me at one point to marry him, in some bizarre rant about his personal sins and mental state. Can’t say I miss him.” Kino said.

“Right, sure, but what of the rest? I mean, like I said, they can’t all be bad?”

“They collaborated with him and let him run his country afoul. They got what they asked for.” Kino sounded a bit more tense, and Hashimoto was now worried as to how they were doing.

“Really? All of them, just because of a few people’s actions?”

“We travelers have to stand by each other, Ivan. If we don’t defend our kind from these attacks, we’d be wiped out. These actions may seem wrong from your standpoint, and I recognize that, but you must understand where I come from on this. The history we participate in is not some grand class struggle like your country, but a constant fight to survive. All “world-historical events”, as you call it, are nothing more than the expression of the self-preservation drive of different peoples, for better or worse.”

“You sound just like Alexei.” Ivan responded.

“That’s enough!” Hashimoto shouted. “Like Dmitri said, we’re all comrades. The past is the past, right?” Ivan silently nodded in agreement, while Kino stared off into the distance, visibly disturbed. “No one here is anything like that devil, understood?” He continued to eat away at his food, only to look up and see that Kino wasn’t touching the food.

“Everything good on your end, kid?” Dmitri asked.

“I have a bit of a headache.” They said, standing up from their seat. “I think I’ll just go lay down for a bit.” Before anyone could say anything, the traveler entered their room and closed the door. As Kino sat down upon the bed, the image of that Blackshirt swinging from a tree came back to their mind. Then the mad king, cackling while reminiscing about the lives he had taken. Then a bloody knife, intended for Kino but landing in another. It was obvious now that history wasn’t what they had originally said, some struggle for life. It was a cycle; a constant repetition of tragedy and farce repeating until the end of time. The ignorance and stupidity of man - themselves included - would continue to fuel the fire; the blood soaking into the soil below their feet was like putting gas in a motorrad. Those who did good didn’t even seem to achieve peace; how many good people had Kino encountered who either lived morally or just started to correct their ways, only to suffer even more? Whether God exists or not was no longer the question; now it was a matter of whether justice and morality existed. Because if God was real, then morality was clearly an independent variable from him. If God wasn’t real, then everything was permitted.

“Is Kino alright?” Dmitri asked, his voice coming through the walls.

“They’ve had a rough day. I fear Ivan’s comment at the end might have set them off.” Hashimoto said.

“Hey, don’t pin this on me!” Ivan shot back.

“No, it’s alright kid. I’m not blaming anyone. If anything, I should have filled you in on what's good and not good to say.”

“Guess that’s what I get for talking about politics at the dinner table.” Ivan joked. 

“It’s always that Stalin guy or whoever that gets things heated up.” Dmitri noted.

“Well, Stalin always said that those who opposed discussing or understanding politics were ideological enemies. Just like the anarchists who ignore the state, for example.” Ivan commented.

The state. In all of their time travelling, Kino had encountered so many countries and different attempts of governance. All the while, they insisted that they were above politics; it wasn’t their concern what this or that country or party thought of another. But that was a lie, and as Hermes pointed out, they were a terrible liar. The very fact that governments seemed to constantly change even without revolutions or social upheavals meant that the state was not an organic being, but a machine; like a clock constantly ticking until it reaches midnight, or a revolver turning its cylinders to line up another round to be sent wherever its user intended. The last part especially; a revolver was not itself inherently immoral or moral, but it depended on its user. The state, then, was just as amoral; but the wickedness of men made it a perfect tool for brutality and vice. So could such a thing be trusted then? Most of the countries Kino had visited were far from evil; misguided, maybe, but then again so were they. If that was man’s nature, then what was to be done with that weapon, the state? They didn’t know; hitting the open road at a young age didn’t exactly give them an understanding of political philosophy. As Kino sat there in the dark, they could hear a knock on the door.

“Hey, Kino? It’s me, Ivan. Uh, mind if I come in?” He asked, his nervousness ringing in the pronunciation of every word.

“Sure.” They responded. Ivan opened the door and flicked on the lights to see Kino sitting down, looking straight ahead at the window in front of them.

“Nice room they got you, huh? Very comfortable, you know.” Ivan said. The traveler remained silent. The tank commander ran his hands through his blonde hair. “Hey, uh, sorry about what happened back there. I, ah, well- god, I suck at this. I get way too heated in these kinds of discussions and it all just came out and I shouldn’t have said anything.” He blurted out. Kino looked up to see him blushing and looking down at his feet. They felt bad for him; it’s wild how people can face certain death without a trace of fear, only to tense up and panic in personal situations.

“Sit down, please.” They asked. Ivan obliged and sat next to them. “Ivan, you're a smart guy. Could I ask you something?”

“I’m not that smart.” He responded, blushing. “I’ll try my best, though.”

“What would someone like Stalin define the state as?” Kino asked.

“Wow, good question. Well, he argued that if you looked at the first states developed by humans, they were, at minimum, just bodies of armed men.”

“Really? Just guys with persuaders?”

“Basically. Any society can have bureaucracies and administration, but what makes a state a state is its ability to use force.” 

“So states are violent by nature, then?”

“Sadly, yes. It’s a matter not of violence or non-violence, but who that violence is directed towards. Bourgeois states direct it towards enemy nations, rival parties, ethnic and religious minorities, class enemies, so on and so forth. A proletarian state has to direct it towards the bourgeois in order to survive, like I mentioned before.”

“Right, I remember that. Still don’t know if I agree, but thanks anyways.”

“Fair enough, Iosif Stalin is not for everyone. Besides, comrade, you’re pretty smart yourself.”

“I don’t know about that part.” They remarked.

“Hey, come on man! Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

“Ivan, I spent so much of my younger years building these assumptions about the world and how it worked, only to have it shatter in the course of a day. So many beliefs I had about the world have been proven wrong in an instant. Does that sound like a smart person to you?” Kino asked.

“Actually, yes.” He responded, much more confident than before.

“How? Explain yourself.”

“Kino, from the sounds of it, you’ve gone through more serious change and reflection than most people have in their entire life. That takes a lot of intelligence, and a lot of guts.”

“You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not! I mean every word of it! Stalin tells us that the most important capital in the world is not factories or machines, but human beings. The politics of the future must not emphasize the mere numbers of bodies that can be shoved onto an assembly line, but the value of individual people. You get that, Kino. Even if you failed in the past in that regard, you fundamentally get it. And redemption is no longer the abstract language of the bourgeois priests, but an achievable goal by all.” He argued. Although the Stalinist terminology he used was a bit confusing, Kino did understand what he was saying.

“So your saying I don’t have to let that stuff hang over me for the rest of my life?” They asked.

“I’m no expert on mental health, so I’m not going to say it’s easy. But, theoretically, yeah. Besides, you travelers are basically proletarians.”

“Tone down all the Stalin talk, please. But, thanks regardless."

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Kino slowly awoken from a short nap, they could now hear a television in the other room playing, the music now silent. They arose from the bed, opened the door and leaned on out to see Hashimoto and Dmitri sitting silently at the table while a news reporter talked.

“-and following this, he has promised to restore faith in the government’s ability to conduct the war and lead the country to victory.” The man on the radio reported.

“What’s going on?” Kino asked. Hashimoto looked up; his face was grim.

“You probably shouldn’t hear this, kid.”

“I’ll be fine. What is it?”

“Whelp, it’s not good. The Emperor sacked Yukio and has named Alexei as the Great Leader.” He said solemnly. To his surprise, Kino didn’t seem all that shaken. “Apparently, Yukio asked to be replaced by him because he felt like he failed his job. They’re claiming he was assassinated shortly afterwards; awfully convenient for the Vozhd.”

“He’s already talking about waging war on “devil-cosmopolitanism” and “hereditary reactionaries”.” Dmitri commented. The television was showing Alexei walking to the stage; he looked like he didn’t even believe that this was happening, like he was dreaming. As a choir of men chanted a song entitled “We Go on the Wide Fields”, he ascended the stage and began to speak.

“Citizens, the darkest hour has arrived. Yukio, a man dedicated to the preservation of the culture and the savior of the race, has passed. Shortly after giving me the powers of office, he was assassinated by an agent of the Devil-Cosmopolitan order. We have already detained him, but the Hub has quickly uncovered an anti-culture plot encompassing so much of our society that even I shudder at the thought. But now cannot be a time of craven actions and timid talk. This is a time of iron will, a time in which we must devote every fiber of our beings to the defeat of the enemy. As the Vozhd of All Peoples, that is my mission and my responsibility! For you, dear citizen, soldier and Blackshirt, it is now no longer enough to say “I believe”! You now must tell the enemies of the race “I fight”! You must be ready to seek the total annihilation of the inhuman forces that besiege us, and create space to breathe in the places where they once lived and produced more hellspawn! That is your mission, and let the devil tremble at the thought!” The crowd cheered at the end, with some shouting “Hail Vozhd Alexei! God, Nation, Labour!”.

As Kino watched the Blackshirt commander rant and rave at the top of his lungs, they realized something. Yes, history was a constant repetition of tragedy and farce repeating until the end of time. But just as a revolver was amoral, so was using the past. They had faced his trial and came out alive; it wasn’t unreasonable to suggest that it could happen again. Maybe this cycle of absurdity could be broken. The gears started turning in Kino’s head; they didn’t have a plan, but they did have a purpose.

“Hashimoto?” The traveler asked. The marshal looked up. “You said we’re going to the firing range tomorrow, right?”

“Well, I said we could if you wanted to.”

“Excellent.” Kino responded, walking away and shutting the door. As Hashimoto and Dmitri sat there, they could hear the sound of a revolver being pulled out of its holster, followed by the snap of a hammer now and again between the voice on the television. The two did not like the sound of that.


	3. It is the basic condition of life, to be required to violate your own identity.

As the sun rose and began to fill the house with light, Dmitri could still hear the sound of a revolver being pulled out of its holster. A constant repetition of the clicks and whirls of the persuader had been heard coming from the traveler’s room last night, and to his surprise he could still hear it. _Did that kid even sleep?_ , he thought as he slowly rose from his bed. _When Hashimoto said he had a guest over, I didn’t think they’d be a lunatic!_ He could also start to hear his husband in the kitchen, probably preparing breakfast. Dmitri pulled out his robe from the closet and slipped into slippers, just as the record player started to play some soothing piano jazz. It was music like that made even the most stressful days managing armaments production just a little bit easier; all the complicated mathematics of assembly line production and coordinating the labor pool seemed to make sense.

As he emerged from his room, he could see Hashimoto making what looked like an omelette of some kind. The light pierced through the drapes, giving the room a gentle glow. Hashimoto turned around and smiled.

“Morning.”

“Morning.” Dmitri responded. He walked up to him and whispered “Have they been doing that all night?”

“Doubt it. I heard it stop at one point.”

“Hashimoto, please tell me you didn’t invite a psychopath into our house.”

“No. Drilling for the dangers one may face is not inherently bad.”

“Right, but doing it for that long right after they learned about Alexei’s promotion makes me wonder.”

“Why don’t you check on them, then?”

“Guess you’re right. Not doing a lot of good just muttering about it, am I?” He joked. Dmitri walked to the door and knocked twice upon it. “Morning, Kino! How are you?” He asked, gently opening the door. Before him stood the traveler, their revolver pointed towards the wall. Dmitri could see they had a second holster on their back for the smaller pistol, and a knife rested upon one of the tables. Kino looked at him and holstered the revolver.

“Morning.” They responded calmly. Dmitri scratched his head.

“Uh, I thought I heard you doing… that stuff last night. You did sleep, of course. Right?”

“Yeah, of course.” Kino responded. _Okay, maybe they’re not a psychopath. That’s good,_ Dmitri thought.

“So you just practice your draw, then?” He asked.

“Yup. Every day before the sun rises. I thought I’d just get a little in last night, as I didn’t have my weapons to drill for a few days.” They said. 

“Sorry, every morning?” 

“Every morning.” The traveler responded calmly. 

“Oh. Well, uh, breakfast should be ready in a little, so, yeah.” Dmitri quickly closed the door and took a breath. _Scratch that. Definitely insane, no doubt,_ he thought.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

What was it with this country and all its talk about revolution? A lot of countries Kino had visited before had social upheavals, public unrest and violent insurrection, but they never seem as obsessed as this one. Or, maybe obsessed is the wrong word; Hashimoto and Dmitri could probably fit in just fine in a few other countries, but Ivan seemed intense about his dedication to the cause. All this talk about the “proletariat” and the “bourgeoisie” had their head spinning; maybe if they stayed in school it would make more sense. As they picked away at the food before them, they started to realize how little they knew about this country.

“Uh, Hashimoto?” They asked. “I have a question.”

“And I might have an answer. What’s your question?” The marshal responded.

“I’ve noticed your country seems to… well, I’m a bit unsure how to phrase it. Ivan spoke a lot about revolutionaries and counterrevolutionaries and, weirdly enough, so did Alexei. Why is that?”

“A good question. This country has had a pretty tumultuous past as is. First, there was the monarchy, which ruled for some time. Then the economy tanked and the king was suspected of working with the enemy, so he got overthrown and it was complete chaos for a bit. Out of all that came a republic, which also was around for some time. But the country entered war against what would become Yukio’s personal playground and things escalated at home as the republic failed to win. So, people started to get angry and flock to people like Andrei, and eventually the republic was overthrown.”

“And now here you are.” Kino responded.

“Not quite. We had a whole civil war, between those who supported the revolution and those who didn’t. A lot of our enemies ended up fleeing, and people like Alexei started arguing that the war needed to be continued from another country.” He explained. “I kept out a lot, but that’s the basics.”

“So your country has a tradition of overthrowing tradition, then?” They joked. Hashimoto and Dmitri chuckled.

“When you put it that way, yes.” Dmitri responded, stopping for a moment to take a bite out of his omelette. “Even Alexei is like this to some degree. He was never a fan of the republic, and he only really liked the monarchists when they gave him bodies and money to extend his control.”

“He’s not a fan of your revolution, clearly. What happened then?”

“Beats me.” Dmitri shrugged. “Some people think it's greed or past trauma that made him who he is. Personally, I think he just believes all that. I’m sure you’ve met plenty of people who believe in some weird stuff, traveler.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say weird.” Kino politely deflected. “Different is a better term, I think. But you make a good point regardless. We all believe in things that seem ridiculous to others. It’s all a matter of perspective, really.”

“So if the majority of people concluded that one person was absolutely nuts, and they all had good proof, is that still just a difference of opinion?” Hashimoto asked, curious to see Kino’s answer.

“I’m not saying that truth doesn’t exist. It’s just that our own biases tend to get in the way of things. Something I learned when training to become a traveler is that one of the best parts of traveling is seeing things from a more neutral perspective.”

“Do you think you have that?”

“It’s less of something I have right now and more a goal I’m trying to get to. I hope, at least.” Their voice seemed to trail off near the end. Kino wondered whether their younger self would even recognize them. They continued to pick away at the food on their plate, all the while nagging thoughts about the dangers of neutrality or the vices of intervention floated around their head. 

“So about the firing range, Kino…” Hashimoto said. “I realized earlier this morning that we have a bit of a dilemma, but I do have a fix. See, the firing range does not allow civilians to use it, and especially not travelers. The party is paranoid about giving Alexei’s boys access to our weapons; pretty stupid if you ask me, but them’s the rules.”

“So what’s the fix?” Kino asked.

“My daughter’s currently in officer school, and she has her standard uniform from when they first enlisted. I could lie and say that I’m simply helping one of the soldiers under my command improve their aim. If we get caught, I could take the blame a-”

“Hashimoto, you can’t be serious.” Dmitri interrupted. “We really can’t risk getting into trouble with the party again. And not to mention that Kino here could get imprisoned, if not shot, for impersonating a soldier! This is nuts! Tell him, traveler!” Kino sat quietly for a moment, thinking about what to say.

“Can I see the uniform?” They asked. Hashimoto nodded, got up from his seat and walked towards one of the closets in the hall. While he sorted through the hangars, Dmitri turned to face the traveler. 

“Listen kid, you don’t want to mess with the party. Kazuo’s a reformer and all, but the majority of people in it are hardliners and party conservatives. In other words, they would have no problem throwing you in a work camp and seeing you spend your last days mining in some god-forsaken hellhole in the mountains!” He warned. Kino continued to eat the food before them, not showing any real emotion. “Is that worth it? Really consider it, kid.” Hashimoto pulled out before him a brown uniform with tan pants and a cap worn for parades and celebrations. Kino realized it was actually not that different from what they normally wore.

“Not much of a looker, but it's designed to be practical.” The general remarked. “If you don’t feel comfortable, then we can scrap this.”

“Right, like you should!” Dmitri commented. Kino smiled.

“I’m in. I’ll get dressed as soon as I’m finished eating.” Hashimoto grinned hearing their response, while Dmitri covered their face with their hands. 

“They’ll kill you, kid. I’m not kidding.”

“I’ll take my chances. Thank you for the warning.” They said, taking the clothes and walking into their room.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Before the Vozhd of All Peoples sat the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in his life. Inside one of the new party offices established within the country, he and some of his newly hired party archaeologists were looking at an assortment of artifacts belonging to a primordial civilization. Laid out on several tables were knife blades, coins, numerous untranslated manuscripts and even what looked like sheet music for some ancient songs. But none of that was even remotely interesting to Alexei. What stood before him seemed to radiate a power he had not felt before, a raw beauty that said a thousand words without speaking. Before the Vozhd was a piece of cloth; a red background with a white circle in the middle. Within the circle was a kind of hooked cross, it’s four points jotting out to each side and standing on its edge. The cloth itself was quite small, and as the archaeologist explained, it was probably worn as an armband.

These ancient people, explained the archaeologist, had emerged much like the Huns or Mongols had, and sought to render much of the known world under their heel. Like Attila, their leader looked unimpressive, but carried a vigor and clarity in his vision that transfixed his people. The world, he said, had wronged our kin; the enemy had pillaged our lands and populated it with bastards and demonkin. They had fabricated lies about the nature of individuals and classes, when in reality there was only one principle: the world is not for cowardly peoples. If the struggle was our daily bread, then one could only conclude that they had to fight like hell. And so they did; riding with an army made up almost entirely of chariots and cavalry, they fought and built an empire which lasted a thousand years. Clearly, the archaeologist observed, this unnamed culture was what Lev Gumilyov would call a “super-ethnos”, a creative force which birthed other races while defending against the merchant class. The other party members nodded their heads and pretended to know what any of that meant.

“Tell me something.” Alexei stopped him, stroking his beard while looking at the cloth. “What’s the story of this thing before me?”

“Oh, that. Well, like I said before, it was probably an armband of some sort. The imagery in the center is called a swastika; we’re not really sure what it means or where it comes from.” The archaeologist explained politely. Alexei pointed towards the image.

“I think we should start using this symbol. See how people react to it and go from there.” He said. “What do you think?”

“Well, your say is final, my Vozhd.”

“Good answer.” He said curtly. Alexei snapped to get the attention of two party officials talking amongst themselves. “You hear all that? Get to work!” He ordered. The three quickly saluted and shouted “Yes, Vozhd Alexei!” before scurrying off. Alexei walked over to a chair and gently sat down, thinking about all this new information. It really was a momentous occasion; further proof of the Patriotic Exile Government’s contribution to the culture and the just nature of their cause. He started to wonder whether his project would be remembered as a super-ethnos as well; maybe historians would look back in wonder and amazement at the brilliance and strength of his people. Then another thought popped into his head; this was not a super-ethnos. For one, so many anti-culture agents and devils had yet to be liquidated. But also the fact that these races had disappeared eventually. They all had their place in the sun, only to retreat into some backwater and die a quiet death. Their race- his race - would never perish. He would die eventually, of course, and be welcomed through the pearly gates into the arms of the savior; that was obvious to all. But his race would march across the earth until every last trace of Devil-Cosmopolitanism was burnt to ash; this was not mere confidence in the cause, but a simple statement of fact. As he was deep in thought, a knock was heard at the door. In walked general Sadao, his left hand balancing a sword sheathed on his hip.

“Marshal Sadao, a pleasure!” He greeted, laying back a bit in his chair. “I’m so glad to see you. These last couple days have been stressful, no?” Sadao looked pale, sweat dripping from his forehead and breathing heavily.

“Just a bit, Great Leader Alexei.” He said, panting after he finished speaking. Alexei hated that title; it spoke of a decadent time of worldly pleasure, but he hid his contempt for that name with a smile.

“You look ill, Sadao. Are you alright?” He asked. Marshal Sadao struggled to form words. “Don’t push yourself, comrade.”

“Alexei, I-I’ve failed this country. The loss against Hashimoto’s troops was shameful and easily preventable. I know how this must en-end.” He tripped over his words as he finished speaking.

“Sadao, what are you talking about?”

“All generals who fail catastrophically must submit the flesh to the sword! This has been custom for ages, and I shall do the same!” He shouted. “But I will not pretend that I’m not scared of death. I am petrified by the very thought of dying. I only say this to be honest, as I shall do the deed no matter what!”

“Sadao, Sadao, comrade! There’s no need for this!” Alexei insisted, sitting up in his chair. “You don’t need to do anything of the sort!” Sadao felt confused.

“What?” He asked.

“Sadao, you are a comrade and ally of the movement. Always has, always will. I’m not going to have one of our best generals end themselves just because one battle went poorly. What about all of your victories, Sadao?! Give yourself some credit, my man.” He insisted. “You are more of a patriot than half of the puritans within the ranks of my-ah, our party. Please sit down.” He pointed towards a chair in front of him, and the general sat down in it.

“You don’t blame me, then?”

“We all make mistakes, especially in politics and warfare. I’d be a bit of a hypocrite if I said otherwise.” He laughed at his own joke. Sadao let out a little smile. “It’s a fact of life, you know. We can’t help it; sin is just something we must deal with.”

“I… thank you, Alexei.” Sadao said quietly. His hand slowly lifted from the handle of the sword. 

“One more thing, Sadao.” Alexei said calmly. “Your eyesight has gotten worse.”

“My eyesi-” Before Sadao could finish his sentence, two shots rang out from a corner of the room, landing into each of Sadao’s knees. The old general fell to the floor, writhing in pain and groaning loudly. Emerging from the shadows was a man clad in a brown uniform carrying a Nambu pistol. He quickly holstered it, pulled out a knife and held up Sadao.

“The guy was basically just standing there. I’m disappointed, honestly.” Alexei remarked.

“Alexei, please!” Sadao shouted, panicking and sweating once more. “Alexei, Alexei, Alexei, Alexei, Alexei! Don’t do this! Alexei, Alexei, just wait a moment!” The man holding Sadao had a knife placed right up to his throat. The Vozhd, perfectly calm, raised one finger. “For God’s sake, Alexei! Ale-” The hysterical shouting of the poor general was cut short by the assailant’s knife, slicing his throat. The great marshal fell to the floor, his sword making a loud sound as it crashed with him. A part of Alexei was still angry about the whole affair. Yukio got to take his own life and never face the consequences of his actions, which fit perfectly for a man so self-absorbed as him; only lying about his death gave it a purpose. He got to ramble on about poetry and books and spent little to no effort in defending the culture against total decay. All the while he spent his time with his… well, “partners” would be the polite term, but Alexei had much harsher language to describe the Great Leader’s relations with men. But no matter; if he couldn’t do it to Yukio, he could at least deny another race traitor their chance at escaping the wrath of the state. Jealousy mustn't penetrate the mind of the officer corps, after all. 

“Inform the Hub that they have new lists. And tell our friends in the party to find a replacement for the marshal.”

“Yes, sir.” The man responded, carrying the body away with him. Alexei pulled out his notebook from his pocket and started scribbling a draft for his newest article. _Dr. Serov writes in his notes on constructing a modern state that all organizations subordinate to the party must learn to not merely tolerate but love discipline...,_ he wrote.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Just as Kino suspected, the uniform wasn’t terribly comfortable. The pants were somewhat baggy, the uniform a bit stiff and the hat always felt like it was sitting on their head wrong. As Kino towed Hermes along through the narrow passageway towards the firing range, the few officers walking through occasionally said hello to Comrade-Marshal Hashimoto and shot glances at the “soldier” behind him. They were probably just looking at Hermes, but it made things a bit more tense. But no matter; they needed to practice, and a little discomfort now was worth it. 

“Were they looking at you, Kino?” Hermes asked quietly.

“I doubt it. They were probably confused to see a motorrad being tugged around inside.” They responded.

“Are you sure? I swear those soldiers out front were looking at you funny. Maybe you’ve got a secret admirer?” He teased. Kino responded by taking their fist and firmly hitting the top of the fuel tank. “Ow.” The three reached the end of the passageway and found themselves at the range. Overlooking a large plot of grass were stations with instructional pamphlets on weapon usage, cleaning, explosives, range rules and other necessities for the modern soldier. At the moment, only a few people seemed to be using it, leaving the three on their own. Kino rolled Hermes right to the edge of the station and propped him up with the kickstand, then proceeded to pull the Cannon out from a pouch tied to Hermes’ back. It had been perfectly cleaned, blinding Kino for a second as they pulled it out.

“That’s a beauty.” Hashimoto said. “You must have worked hard to keep it in shape.”

“Be very careful with it.” Kino instructed, holding the persuader out with the handle pointed towards the marshal. He nodded, gently taking the weapon and holding it before them. Even for a revolver it was surprisingly heavy, its weight shifted in such a way that its user would have to make every one of its six shots count. Hashimoto grabbed some ear plugs from a small cup on the table in the station and placed them in his ears slowly. Each slot within the cylinder of the weapon was already loaded; as the safety was taken off and the weapon was pointed down range, Hashimoto wondered how young the kid was when they first used this thing. He was only twenty-one when he first killed someone, and that was with a standard _papasha_ persuader, an ugly but effective weapon. As he pulled the trigger, the revolver roared to life, firing a round down range and smashing into the top of one of the targets. The persuader flew upwards, its barrel smoking. Hashimoto began to laugh loudly.

“You use this bloody thing?!” The marshal said, astonished. “Kicks like a mule!”

“It’s difficult, for sure. But with a lot of practice and fighting, you can use it to its full potential.” Kino said.

“Is that so? How long have you been using this thing?”

“Well, I started using it when I first started training to travel, which was ages ago. I was fifteen when I… left.” The way Kino phrased the last part indicated that there was more to that part of the story then they were letting on. Hashimoto didn’t seem to notice, however.

“Fifteen?! I don’t believe you.”

“Really? Why not?”

“When I was fifteen I was busy with school and finding a partner.”

“I wasn’t.” Kino responded. Hashimoto looked confused, holding the revolver before him.

“Alright, show me how accurate you are with this thing. I’ll call out the targets and you try to hit them.”

“Certainly.” They responded casually, grabbing the revolver and placing it in their holster. Again, Hashimoto looked bewildered as the traveler walked to the station.

“Oh come on. You're gonna try to quick draw?” He asked skeptically.

“Yes. What’s the target?” They asked. Hashimoto sighed.

“Fine, you can embarrass yourself. 300m, straight ahea-'' Before he could finish his sentence, the traveler quickly pulled out the persuader and fired as soon as the sights on the weapon lined up. The round hit dead center, making a satisfying _thunk_ when it made contact. Kino holstered the pistol and kept their right hand hovering over the holster. “Alright. Lucky shot. 300m, right si-'' Once again, the traveler sent another round down range in a blink of an eye, hitting right on. “500m, far l-” Hashimoto thought he was being clever, as that fell outside of the range of the Colt Walker, but again, a direct hit. “450m, str-” The roar of the revolver interrupted him once more, followed by the sound of the hammer being put forward and the safety being flicked on. He looked at the traveler; they once again holstered the revolver and stood perfectly still, their breathing slow and regulated. “What the hell do they give travelers to be that good?” He asked.

“I spent a decent amount of time training under a former traveler. If you don’t test your limits, they become harder to reach.”

“Is that so?”

“Worked for me so far.” They said. “Now, if you don’t mind me asking, do you have one of those Lawnmowers?”

“Oh, that? Yeah, it's in the armory over the-” As Hashimoto pointed over to where the weapons were stored, Kino could see the marshal start to grimace as a man walked towards him. He wore what looked like a military uniform, but the pants were colored blue and on his hat was a large emblem of a hammer with the words “Directorate for Revolutionary Protection” surrounding it. “I’ll handle this, kid.” He said quietly.

“A pleasure to see you, Comrade-Marshal!” The man exclaimed, his voice a bit nasally and strained. “Training with one of your soldiers, I see? That was some impressive shooting. What’s your name, soldier?”

“Uh, K-” Kino had to stop themselves from saying their name. They struggled for a second to come up with something, until they eventually blurted out “Kirill, sir.”

“Good to meet you, Kirill. That’s an old royalist name, you know?” He noted.

“Oh. Well, I-uh, that’s unfortunate.” They remarked; the commissar laughed.

“No worries, it’s still a good name.” Kino nervously laughed in response. “Now, if you could excuse us, me and the Marshal have some talking to do.”

“We can do it right here.” Hashimoto said curtly. The commissar shrugged. 

“Okay, if you insist. I want to talk about the documents on soldier morale.”

“Oh heavens, not this again.” Hashimoto grumbled.

“Discipline and motivation is so important in all matters, no?” The commissar said. Kino nodded politely. “Right. Without proper practice and an understanding of the goals of the revolution, we will be lost.”

“Yuri, you said in our last meeting that you’d be talking to Kazuo about this. What did he say?” He asked. The commissar named Yuri looked tense, his face getting a bit more red. “Well?”

“Paramount Leader Kazuo has said that while he thinks that I’m in the right here, you do have a right to deny party commissars the ability to view certain documents pertaining to-” Hashimoto started to laugh while Yuri mumbled his disappointment.

“Then that settles it, then! For all this talk of discipline, it's you who needs to fall in line, comrade! Maybe the old guard has something to teach the boys at the DRP.” He bragged.

“The Directorate is above inner-party politics, and has committed itself to Kazuo’s new vision of a union free from previous dogmas. Your paranoia, Marshal Hashimoto, will only hurt your men in the long run, and deprive the proletarian state of a unity it desperately needs.” He said sternly. “What do you think, Comrade Kirill?”

“Keep my soldiers out of this, Yuri.” Hashimoto ordered.

“Comrade-Marshal, the individual soldier is allowed to have his opinions on certain matters and express them freely. It’d be authoritarian to prevent that, no?” He snarled.

“I don’t have an opinion, really. I’m still new to military matters.” They said politely. Yuri frowned.

“Well, you will in time. Fine, I’ll leave you two be, but Marshal, understand that unity is the difference between life and death. So long, Kirill.” He said, turning around and walking away.

“What was that about?” Kino asked.

“Inner-party drama. Nothing to worry about.” He said. “Let me get the rifle.” The marshal walked towards the armory.

“Kino, can I be honest with you?” Hermes asked.

“What is it, Hermes?”

“We’ve done a pretty bad job at staying out of the affairs of the countries we visit recently.” The motorrad said.

“It could be worse, but you’re right. The master would be ashamed.”

“Well, they weren’t any better in that regard.” Hermes said, trying to comfort the traveler. “To be honest, it’s less a thing you train for and more just a principle you try to live by.”

“So I still failed, then.” Kino said. In the reflection of the motorrad’s gas tank, they could see a person awkwardly looking around in a uniform that wasn’t theirs, a bizarre mockery of what they were supposed to be when they first set out to travel. But they had a target in mind, and just as before, the show must go on. Hashimoto emerged from the armory holding the Lawnmower and a few magazines in his hands, gently placing them down on one of the tables in the station. 

“Right, so this is the TKB-059. It uses three barrels and has ninety rounds stored in the magazine. Fires like crazy; not my personal favorite, but I’ll let you decide as to whether you like it or not. My recommendation is to fire from the hip and just let the recoil do the work for you.” The traveler picked up the rifle and held it out before them, examining it. It really was a strange one; it looked like something from a cheesy science fiction book, not an actual weapon regularly used by an army. “Considering your, uh, expertise, I’ll let you handle the rest. I’ll be here if you have any questions.”

“Certainly. Thank you, Hashimoto.” Kino said politely.

“Don’t mention it, kid.” Kino placed the magazine into the slot in the stock of the rifle and pulled the bolt back. At first, Kino tried looking down the iron sights, but calling them poor would be an understatement. They lowered it to the hip and squeezed the trigger, letting out bursts of fire into the targets. It made a satisfying rattle as it fired, and the barrels quickly started to smoke. The magazine quickly emptied, and Kino placed the rifle back down on the spot before them. “So, what do you think?” Hashimoto asked. Kino turned around and smiled.

“It’s something, but I don’t think it’s for me.”

“Yeah, now you see why I have my doubts. Andrei was big into these projects, you know; every experiment or test couldn’t be normal, it had to be “visionary”. That’s one thing Kazuo’s better with.” He noted.

“Was Andrei a scientist?” Hashimoto laughed hearing the question.

“He was a lot of things, traveler. A lot good, and a lot… well, you get the gist. Scientist was never one of his jobs.” He said. “You know, Kino, you were quite good on the range. The People’s Red Army is an internationalist force, accepting recruitment from all countries. That kind of talent could do wonders.”

“Thanks, but I can’t. I’m a traveler, not a soldier.” They said.

“Alright, fair enough. It was a good question.”

“No it wasn’t.” Kino responded curtly.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When Alexei looked at the person before him, he could hardly believe that this was supposed to be the emperor. It surprised him every time he saw him; the natives believed him to be the direct blood descendant of the gods of the sun, and yet here stood a meek and quiet child! At the very least, he looked somewhat presentable when in a suit and tie; although every time the cameras pointed his way he seemed to scramble for something to hide. For the most part, this was great; no one to interfere in the holy mission of the Vozhd of All Peoples. But now Alexei would have to play babysitter every now and again and ensure that they behave in public and private meetings. Annoying, but necessary. As he watched the child and his guards come forward, he slightly tilted his head, just enough to show respect but not enough to relinquish authority. 

“Your Imperial Majesty,” Alexei said, “It’s a pleasure to see you. How have you been?” He asked. The kid nodded politely; Alexei couldn’t remember whether yesterday was the kid’s fourteenth or fifteenth birthday.

“I’m alright, thanks.” The emperor responded. The kid took a seat before the Vozhd while his guards stood along the side, their faces emotionless and their rifles held before them. He looked a lot like his father; having a freckled face and red hair was by this point the easy way to recognize the royals. 

“Happy to hear it. These last couple of days have been rather wild, were they not?”

“Yeah, I’m just glad you got it all under control.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” The Vozhd responded. “I’m eternally in your debt for making me the head of this great country.”

“Thanks, but it wasn’t really my decision.”

“Who was it, then?”

“My family. They gave the recommendation, and I followed suit.”

“Is that so? I didn’t know the royal family had supporters to our cause.”

“I didn’t ei-I mean, yeah.” The emperor quickly corrected himself. Alexei smiled; the kid knew more than he was letting on.

“Your Majesty, you’ll have to forgive me on this, but I’ve just realized I don’t actually know your name.”

“Oh. Well, the rules say that you're supposed to just call me “Your Majesty” or “Emperor", and not my name, so I think you’ll be fine.” He said.

“I know that, but as a part of creating closer bonds between the Patriotic Exile Government and the royal family, it's important for the Vozhd and the Emperor to understand and cooperate with one another. Don’t you agree?” Alexei asked. The emperor shyly nodded.

“Well, if you say so. My name is Akira.”

“Akira? That’s a great name. Rolls off the tongue nicely.” He commented. “Tell me, Akira, what do you think about the course our government has taken so far?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not really knowledgeable about politics.”

“What do you consider yourself knowledgeable about, then?”

“Well… I’ve done pretty well in my biology classes.” He responded.

“Is that so? The thing is, Akira, biology and politics are actually connected to each other! You know more than you think!” Alexei exclaimed. 

“What do you mean, Alexei?” The boy asked.

“How much of Darwin have you read?” Akira wasn’t sure how to respond to that question; Darwin was important for sure, but most evolutionary scientists had modified his original arguments to better fit new developments on the evolution of species. He was mostly mentioned just as the guy who started evolution theory, and that was it.

“Not a lot, I’m afraid.” He responded, trying to sound a bit more educated. “He’s a bit difficult to read.”

“Oh, most certainly. I would highly recommend Dr. Serov’s introduction and notes to his _Origin of Species_.”

“Who?” He asked. Alexei had long forgotten the rush and excitement of getting to pull in a new recruit; if this was what dealing with the kid would be like, then it would be just fine.

“Ivan Serov was a brilliant man. He understood Darwin in a way no one else did. He said that if humans are just animals, like _Origin_ argues, then it follows that the same rules apply to us. That one rule, of course, being “One general law, leading to the advancement of all organic beings, namely, multiply, vary, let the strongest live and the weakest die”.” Alexei quoted; he was proud of always remembering that line. 

“Was Serov a scientist?”

“No, and that is what makes it so funny that he understood him so well!” Alexei proclaimed, giggling a bit. “Akira, our laws must be based around that principle. Things like natural rights, property or God forbid equality, are bloodless abstractions. They are deliberate lies created by the Devil-Cosmopolitans in order to deceive our race. What they lack elsewhere they make up for in their ability to distract and confuse. Think of how one can scare off a bear by raising their coat over their head in order to appear bigger; it’s the same principle.” Akira was a bit startled by some of the things he was saying; he remembered hearing his mother speaking about how vicious the PEG’s members were. Yet, he also knew that the Cosmopolitans were a threat to the country.

“Alexei, I remember hearing that Yukio had invited a… I guess they’d be called a traveler, but you objected to it. Why?” He asked. Alexei felt like he was gonna scream bloody murder every time the former leader was mentioned, especially after that episode with the traveler. But without the emperor’s cooperation, his government would collapse, meaning that their relationship had to be symbiotic. Still, the boy was young, and clearly open to new ideas. The Vozhd's smile drifted into a more serious look.

“Yukio, bless the poor man’s soul, was a big proponent of boosting tourism, especially with travelers. What he failed to understand, I’m afraid, is that these travelers are, by definition, Cosmopolitans. They lack a homeland, belong to the most degenerate of races and smuggle in high-grade weapons that they use to shoot and stab good innocent people. You know the story about the traveler that visited the country with the coliseum?”

“No, but I know we used to trade with them.”

“One traveler shot their way through the tournament, killed the king and made the upper class kill each other by law! Imagine that terror happening here, Akira! What horrors could be brought to us!” He said angrily; Akira was frightened. “When I heard that a traveler had arrived here and had failed a culture question, I knew something had to be done. Yukio wasn’t of the same mind, however, and had them released. What a strange character, that traveler. Their name was Kino - what kind of name is that?” Akira shrugged. “The traveler claimed to be neither male nor female. Can you believe that?! Makes me sick to my stomach. Should have called that moron “it”, because that’s what “it” is; subhuman!” He shouted.

“Sounds unpleasant.”

“Wasn’t all bad. I confronted that thing later, and it was terrified beyond measure!” He laughed thinking about the look on their face, sweat pouring down as they pointed a persuader at him. “So polite and calm during the interrogation, only to quiver and cower when faced with the legions of our people! “I’d like to understand how people work. What makes some people believe one thing and others a different thing? How do some societies prosper and others fail?” Give me a break!” He said, mimicking Kino to Akira and his own delight. Akira was starting to think that Alexei wasn’t all that bad.

“So, why did you invite me here? I’d love to talk more, but I have schoolwork to do.”

“Yes, of course. Later today the army and the Blackshirts will be doing a parade through the city. I’d like you to be there with me.”

“Oh, uh…” Once again, he sounded nervous. “I’m not really good with these kinds of events.”

“You won’t have to talk.”

“It’s not that. It’s… just a lot. I don’t know.”

“Akira, it’s very difficult for you, I can tell. But as Emperor, you have been given duties by God and by your race, and I think you can do it. You’re stronger than you think, lad.” He said, trying to comfort the kid.

“Really?”

“Yes. You shall wield such power and authority over your subjects that someday, you shall fear nothing. The Devil-Cosmopolitans feed upon the fears and insecurities of humans, but you shall guide your people to victory, just like I shall. We each have our struggles, you see; I fought through a vicious war, watched as my loved ones dropped dead and the great enemy rose to power, and fought tooth and nail against those who assailed me. Someday, Akira, I shall enter my homeland like Caesar returning to Rome, and send every devil and bastard-collaborator to either the slave camps or the grave. And you shall reign over a people cleansed of all anti-culture elements, and they shall love you eternally for it. That is the truth of it.” Alexei spoke with an intensity Akira hadn’t really seen from him before; his mother forbade him from attending his speeches, and it was only recently had he begun to speak with him. 

“Okay. I’ll come, then.”

“Very nice.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Before Kino stood the huge dome they had seen before, known to the people of this country as the Presidium. A large set of steps led up to the doors, where soldiers and bureaucrats were walking into and getting searched by a set of guards. Overlooking the area was a large statue of a soldier wielding a rifle with a bayonet, posed in a way to make it look like it was marching forward. Hermes was surprised that Kino even agreed to come here; when Hashimoto first offered to take them to the thirtieth anniversary celebration of the revolution, the traveler refused on the grounds that they didn’t want to get involved with internal politics any further. But then Hashimoto made a joke about how he’d get the buffet to himself, and the next thing you know Kino had changed clothes and was ready to go. Hermes grumbled at the time about how predictable they could be, and he had a point.

“Don’t think you can take your motorrad friend in.” Hashimoto said. “Sorry about that.”

“I’ll live. Just don’t do anything stupid, Kino.” Hermes remarked. The traveler parked Hermes right along the side of the road and waved.

“I’ll be back before you know it.” They said, walking forth with the marshal and Dmitri along with them. The guards' faces lit up as they saw Hashimoto.

“Grand Marshal!” One of them shouted; Hashimoto scowled hearing that. “Haven’t seen you here in a little while.”

“And if you keep calling me Grand Marshal, I won’t be here again.” He remarked; the guard stood in silent as the three walked forward, embarrassed. The other guard stepped forward.

“Any weapons on you three?”

“Me and Dmitri, no. The traveler does, I believe.” He said. Kino nodded, pulling out their persuaders and handing them to the guard.

“Anything else?” The guard asked.

“Nope.” The guard gave a skeptical look.

“Really, now? You do know what kind of punishment you could face for bringing in weapons into a government building?” He said. Kino sighed.

“You're better than some of the other guards I’ve dealt with, I’ll say that.” The guard didn’t like the sound of “dealt with”, but kept a stern face. Before a table with a large box containing valuables and some weapons, Kino began to deposit each knife they had. Bowie knives, stiletto daggers, switchblades, a kukri; they all came out one by one, while the guards looked on, baffled that someone could have that many. After depositing what looked like a knife with a four-barrel persuader into the box, the guard scratched his head. “That’s everything.” They said calmly.

“Oh, now you’re finished?” He remarked. The guard patted the traveler down just in case, before finally letting them go. Kino could hear him saying to the other guard that they should make the DRP keep one eye on them at all times.

Inside the building, people of all kinds talked to each other while dining. Politburo members dressed in their Sunday finest talked to their mates, discussing the ascension of Alexei to power or the state of the economy; some chose to avoid politics altogether. As Kino grabbed a plate and loaded it up with food, they could see Hashimoto speaking to two other people. One was a man who dressed like a professor, smiling while nodding along. The other was a woman, dressed in a long black garb and smiling as well. Whatever he was speaking about, Hashimoto seemed pretty intense about it, waving his arms while he spoke. As Kino approached, they could hear a bit of the conversation.

“... the kid seems to have been through a lot as of late, so just try to keep your cool and think before you talk.” He said.

“Certainly, Hashimoto. That won’t be an issue.” The man said quietly.

“Oh, there they are. Traveler, over here!” The general shouted, waving them to their table. Kino sat down in between the general and the woman. “You got enough?” Hashimoto joked; Kino noticed how they had easily taken the most food out of all of the people at the table. The woman took out her hand.

“My name’s Shinkigen. What’s yours?” She asked, her voice soft and gentle. The traveler shook their hand. 

“Kino.”

“Nice to meet you, Kino. Over there is my good friend Kazuo, you might have heard of him.” She pointed to the man who looked like a professor, who smiled back. It was hard to believe that this was the so-called Paramount Leader. 

“Don’t get a lot of visitors these days, so it’s nice to see someone different. Could I ask you something?” He asked.

“Sure, as long as I get to eat my food.” They quipped; the group chuckled.

“Of course. I’ve heard a rumor saying that there is a country that is so advanced, all jobs are done by automatons. Is that true?”

“Oh boy. Kazuo, don’t bore the traveler with tall tales.” Hashimoto said.

“No, he’s right.” Kino interrupted. “I’ve been there, actually.”

“Really? Do tell.”

“Like you said, it was very technologically advanced. All of their transportation was done by these vehicles that hovered above the ground, and their work was done by computers.”

“Amazing. What else?” Kazuo asked, sounding like a curious child.

“They paid for goods and services using tokens that represented stress. According to one person I spoke to, they still wanted people to be productive and find purpose in their work, so they just assigned them meaningless jobs.”

“So, even with a fully automated economy, they couldn’t break out of the previous mode of production. Traveler, did you happen to meet any managers or industrialists while you were there?”

“Uh, I’d…” They went silent; Kino was confused by the question.

“Oh, apologies. Look at me, so used to speaking to party men and not normal people!” Kazuo exclaimed. Dmitri and Hashimoto laughed at the Paramount Leader’s joke. “Since the war, we haven’t exactly had many visitors. Combine that with the busywork of the government and all the people you talk to are politburo types. What I was trying to say, Kino, is that they are still stuck in their ways despite being so advanced. As Andrei would say, they are technologically advanced but retain the mindsets of cavemen.”

“I’m not sure if I agree. The people I talked to were pretty smart, if a bit different.” Kino commented. 

“Again, it’s more a matter of personal ideology or mindset than intelligence. If the machines can do all the work, then why even give people meaningless jobs? They should instead be able to do whatever their hearts desire and not worry about acquiring currency. They have the methods, but not the vision.” He retorted.

“I see.” Kino said before taking a bite out of the food. “So, your country values technology, then?”

“Most certainly. Without the consistent evolution of technologies, we can never expect for people’s livelihoods to improve or for the revolution to succeed. Andrei understood that it wasn’t enough to be a revolutionary; we all had to commit ourselves to the construction of the future. Only the total democratization of society and the increased involvement of the masses can guarantee our freedom.”

“Total democratization? I’ve been to a country where they tried that.”

“Really, traveler? How was it?”

“When I got there, only one person was alive.” They said. The other people at the table looked uncomfortable and sat in silence for a few moments.

“Oh dear…” Shinkigen said. “If you don’t mind me asking, how come?”

“They executed anyone who disagreed with the majority vote. It continued to whittle down the entire population.”

“Anarchist deviationism, clearly.” Kazuo commented, sounding much more confident than before. “Total democratization will require checks and balances to ensure that such a tragedy does not happen here. A council-based model which utilizes the election of delegates to the Presi-” He cut himself short realizing that Kino was lost again. “What I’m trying to say is that we can learn from their mistakes.”

“Of course.” Kino said politely. For a while the group dined away at the food before them, the only talking being an occasional banter between Dmitri and Hashimoto. After he finished eating, Kazuo and Shinkigen both left the table, citing their role in the ceremony as the reason. The lights in the room dimmed a little, and at the front of the hall a group of soldiers appeared, along with a military band of some kind. One of the soldiers walked to the front, his face carrying a stupid grin. 

“Is that Ivan?” Dmitri asked his husband. Hashimoto nodded in agreement. “Didn’t know the kid could sing.”

“Me neither. No matter how good he is, I’m still gonna make fun of him for it.” He quipped.

“Comrades! Today is a great day!” The tank commander shouted. “On this day thirty years ago, the decrepit oligarchy that was the republic was overthrown by the people’s revolution, led by our glorious visionary party and its Paramount Leader, Andrei! Every day since, we have marched forward to create a world free from misery and terror! It is my honor to be the first of tonight’s performances!” He shouted, projecting his voice so that all could hear home without a microphone. As the orchestra started to play, Ivan began to sing a tune that was familiar to just about everyone except Kino. Its lyrics declared that the country was the master of war, and that each generation had and would continue to produce heroes to emulate and aspire to. Ivan’s voice normally was quite high pitched, but while singing he brought it down far lower, giving it a much deeper tone. The first three parts of the song celebrated a different hero in the country’s history, starting with an ancient warrior king who trapped his enemies on a frozen lake and drowned them by strategically breaking it in certain parts. Following that, he sang about a legendary emperor who shattered the walls of an opposing castle with a barrage of cannon fire, then an old general who led his troops through a daring and perilous march through the frozen tundra and mountains. 

As Ivan continued to sing, Hashimoto couldn’t help but be proud. Yes, he was a loudmouth who ranted about Stalin way too much, but he was also one of his soldiers. They had gotten so far, and this celebration in his mind was a testament to the willpower of every soldier in the People’s Red Army. Dmitri admired the boy’s singing, and the raw power the orchestra exerted during the chorus was awe-inspiring. Then there was Kino, who sat in silence watching the display, realizing that they probably shouldn’t have agreed to going if they were just there for the food. The names of heroes thrown about in the song meant nothing to them, and the repetitive blaring of the horns and smashing of the drums was making their head hurt. Eventually the song ended, and they could see the Paramount Leader congratulate the singers and begin speaking on stage about the triumphs of the revolution and the tasks ahead. As the speech turned into the exact specifics of industrial policy and the needs of the consumer market, Kino decided that they had heard enough.

“Hashimoto?” Kino whispered.

“Yes, comrade?”

“Do you mind if I head out for just a bit?”

“Everything good on your end?”

“Just fine. I just want to get some fresh air is all.”

“No need to ask me. Go nuts, you’re an adult after all.”

“Thanks.” They responded. As they walked away from the room and into the halls of the Presidium, the words Hashimoto said started to fill their head. When they first left to travel officially, they were young; too young, some would say. They were even younger when they left their country of origin, though they didn’t exactly have a choice in that matter. But now, as the old marshal said, they were an adult, and Kino didn’t exactly know how to feel about that. Their homeland was so proud of the fact that they could turn children into adults through surgery that anyone who so much as mildly disagreed with that policy was to be killed on sight. In their eyes, Kino was an abomination; the process of natural aging was something to be horrified of. Similarly, Alexei and his men had concluded that they were a “Devil-Cosmopolitan”, and believed the very act of traveling to be a slight against heaven and nature. Both societies, Kino concluded, seemed to believe that everything had to be in the state and nothing could be outside of it, no matter how much it hurt the people living in it. But Kino couldn’t really do anything about their homeland; was there anything they could do about Alexei’s land?

“Traveler!” They heard a voice shout. Kino turned around to see the woman who was sitting with them before, her blonde hair shimmering in the light. “Taking a breather as well?” Shinkigen asked.

“Yeah, not my type of music, I’m afraid.” Kino said, trying to phrase their distaste politely. 

“I’m the same way. Not to be stereotypical, but choir hymns are more my speed.” She remarked.

“Pardon?”

“You couldn’t tell? I’m a priest.” She said. 

“I didn’t know this country had priests.”

“Well, it’s a long story. Mind if I walk with you?” She asked.

“Sure.” The two began to through the halls while Kazuo’s voice occasionally echoed throughout the building. 

“Many of the priests in this country were not originally aligned with the revolution, and thus were targeted by the government as agents of foreign powers. It was an incredibly scary time for men and women of the cloth; a decent portion of my clergy just disappeared without a trace one day.” She said.

“That’s terrible. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Thank you, traveler. Just as the anti-religious programs were increasing in its aggression, however, they stopped persecuting us.”

“How come?”

“Andrei had long been paranoid about the possibility of his party being overthrown by the enemy, and took drastic measures to prevent that. But by the end of his life, he felt like he had missed the point of the revolution. His final speech to the public talked about how the younger generation needed to be the visionaries that his generation never had, and his pick for successor, Kazuo, was among the reformers within the party.” As they walked along the halls, Kino noticed that each wall had the insignia for the different departments of government. They all had very long and bulky titles, like People’s Commissariat for Heavy Industry, Worker’s Directorate for Revolutionary and Democratic Elections, and The Commissariat for the Creation of an Enlightened and Proletarian Culture. 

“So he had a change of heart. Was it a religious calling?” The traveler asked.

“No, he lived and died an atheist. But he did seem to genuinely believe that the time for repression had passed. A part of the reason Kazuo invited me into his government was to end the conflict between the religious and non-religious, while still maintaining atheism as the official doctrine.” She said; the last part didn’t sound confident in the slightest.

“You don’t sound convinced.” Kino noted. Shinkigen nodded in agreement.

“I have faith in the goodwill of men and their ability to love one another. I don’t have faith in the state thinking that it can just erase the last thirty years and pretend we can all get along without taking the steps to get there.” The priest responded, their voice suddenly much sterner. 

“What do you mean by “goodwill of men”?”

“That people are not condemned to wallow in vice and sin, but can actively work to better themselves and others. It is a path of redemption offered to us by the will of God and something that is achievable by all. I like to think that even Andrei achieved that in his final moments.” As the priest spoke, Kino was reminded of how Ivan had made a similar point the night before, albeit in very different terms. “Even if he did use violence to achieve his methods, he could still see the errors in his previous ways.”

“Your religion doesn’t approve of violence?” Kino asked.

“It’s important to recognize that defensive violence is necessary, but necessity still creates evil. Those who pretend it serves some greater good other than survival are lying to themselves.” Shinkigen explained. “Even our enemies deserve better.”

“Even Alexei?” Kino asked.

“Even Alexei.” She responded. The traveler was reminded of when they last met the Vozhd, and how he lectured about how Kino didn’t really care about the death they caused. Maybe he was wrong, then; after all, he was one to talk about justifications for murder. Maybe they had acted cowardly once, but it could be corrected. An idea came to mind, one which would be incredibly risky, but might just work.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Vozhd Alexei, if I may speak freely, I do not think this is a good idea.” A party operative said quietly. He and the Vozhd of All Peoples stood in the office where the traveler had been interrogated a few days earlier, looking over the plan for the parade. The Blackshirts and army would march together to show the unity of the party and the state, and after a short speech by Alexei and one of the priests, the new flag for the Patriotic Exile Government would be shown. Alexei was ecstatic, and he couldn’t wait to show off the design he made; this made the operative’s skepticism all the more tiresome to him.

“And why is that?” He asked.

“The evidence the archaeologists put together is unreliable at best. They claim that this empire that we’re going to sing songs of and praise lasted a thousand years, but this is only based on their claims. For all we know, it lasted a thousand weeks or a thousand days.”

“You think this race lied?”

“I don’t know. We need to do more research before acting so drastically. I would recommend holding off until we can find more evidence, maybe papers from their enemies or people they subjugated.”

“Woe to the conquered!” Alexei barked. The party operative jumped in shock. “If their opinion mattered, they would not have been subjugated by their betters! This is precisely the fault of the monarchists in our homeland, they failed to realize that they lost. I will not hear anymore nonsense, understand?”

“Yes, my Vozhd.” The operative muttered, saluting then walking out of the room. Alexei sighed as he walked to his office; he could not understand how even his own party could have people speak such nonsense. _Maybe new lists were in order_ , he thought as he grabbed his cap from the desk and walked out the door. Before him, row after row of Blackshirt stood at attention, ready to march at a moment's notice. To his side, agents of the hub stood by a Mercedes-Benz 770 with the roof down; in the back seat, Akira sat patiently. He and the Hub agents quickly boarded the car. As he sat quietly next to the Emperor, Alexei wondered why he had gotten along so well with him. He was expecting it to be a necessary chore, just like all other work within the state. But it seemed like Akira genuinely believed in their project, and wanted to help anyway he could. Maybe he had been too harsh on the boy; but then again, the state was not an end in itself. The very nature of racial struggle meant that the state was not an organic being, but a machine; like a clock constantly ticking until it reaches midnight, or a revolver turning its cylinders to line up another round to be sent wherever its user intended. The last part especially; a revolver was not itself inherently immoral or moral, but it depended on its user. The Devil-Cosmopolitans had used the power of the state to wage war on humanity in the cruelest ways imaginable, and the strongest races had to do the same to emerge triumphant. 

“You seem rather quiet.” Akira said to the Vozhd. Alexei snapped out of thought and faced the boy next to him.

“Just have a lot on my mind. Are you ready?”

“I think I am.” 

“Excellent. Remember, the Cosmopolitan feeds off fear. If you don’t show fear, then it will.” He responded. As the car turned the corner he could see thousands of people cheering and saluting him, along with Blackshirts and soldiers standing guard. He rose from his seat and saluted back, his face firm and emotionless. The car pulled out before a large stage, where the “Patriarch” of his faith stood silently along with party officers and bureaucrats. One of the Hub agents opened the door to the car, and he and the young Emperor exited and walked up upon the stage. Alexei stood before the podium with the boy to his right side and took a deep breath.

“Our enemies, numerous as they are terrible, have claimed again and again that the culture we represent is stupid and base, that the history we claim as ours is without research or reason, and that our cause lacks clarity and purpose. They are lies, as you very well know, and they have continuously shown to be lies! Our archaeologists have shown that our race is the descendants of empire builders and the greatest contributors to the culture we know! For this reason, if we are to succeed, we must claim their legacy and uphold the values we hold dear regardless of the consequences! For that is the only way we shall achieve breathing space!” He shouted. The crowd applauded Alexei at the end, and Blackshirts around the area began to unveil large banners. The flag was a black-yellow-white tricolor with a swastika placed in the top left corner. The audience went from enthusiastic applause to audible confusion. “That is the flag of our race, imbued with the emblem of past conquerors! Revere it!” Alexei shouted. The crowd clapped, though not nearly as wild as before, and Alexei and the Emperor stepped to the side to allow the priest to give his sermon. Next to him stood an intimidating looking Hub agent.

“Great Leader, I wish to speak on certain matters you raised in your speech.” He whispered.

“Call me Vozhd.” Alexei said back. “But, what is it?”

“Apologies, my Vozhd. You spoke for a bit about breathing space.”

“I did. Our race needs to meet agricultural demands by acquiring new territory and repopulating it with people of better blood and moral character.”

“I believe it to be in our best interest to focus our next attacks on some of the smaller village-countries rather than your homeland. We could create a supply chain to better siege the enemy and deal with our population issues.” He recommended. Alexei nodded.

“Excellent. You have my support.” He said. The agent smiled, and they both turned back to see the Patriarch ending his sermon.

“Blessed are the _volk_ , for they shall inherit the earth. Amen.” He said, using a word translated by the archaeologists after their recent discovery. _I should use that_ , Alexei thought to himself. As the priest stopped speaking, the Blackshirt columns began to march forth, saluting their Vozhd as they goose-stepped past the stage. Even underground, in the minds of the citizens, the sun shined as bright as ever. Following that, the culture minister came forth and spoke at length at the superiority of their race and it’s artistic abilities. After all, who could produce such timeless masterpieces as “Wild, Wild West”, “Mac and Me”, Battlefield: Earth” and “Jack and Jill”, he argued? Not the subhumans, clearly. This was art worth dying for.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Sitting on the floor before Kino was a white cloth with various parts and tools placed upon it. Their revolver, Cannon, had to be assembled and disassembled consistently if it was to remain clean and functional, and Hermes watched as Kino rolled up the sleeves of their white dress shirt and shifted the lever which dismounted the barrel and cylinder from the rest of the persuader. The traveler remained concentrated, cleaning out the barrel with a cleaning rod and then using a syringe of some kind to inject a green liquid into each cylinder.

“Kino, are you alright?” Hermes asked.

“Just fine. Why do you ask?” As they spoke, Kino placed in each chamber felt paddings and bullets.

“You haven’t talked at all since that buffet you went to. It’s kind of scary, to be honest.”

“Scary? Well, I’m sorry to have scared you.” They said. Set up on the side was a small portable stove, where Kino had poured some of that green liquid into a cup and held it over the fire.

“What’s that green stuff?”

“Liquid propellant.” 

“Yes, I remember now. And what are you doing placing it over a fire?”

“Concentrating the propellant.” They said calmly, taking the cup off the fire with a metal claw and pouring in more propellant.

“Oh dear…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Last time you did that, it was the coliseum fights. Remember?”

“It really was that long ago, wasn't it?” Kino asked, stirring the contents of the cup and placing it over the fire again. 

“Yup. And remember how well that ended?” He said, his concern peaking.

“Well, then let’s hope that I'll only have to use the other pistol, then.”

“Use it for what, Kino?” Hermes asked. 

“I’ve come to a bit of a realization, Hermes.” As they spoke, they had turned off the stove, then took a single bullet and gently poured some of the liquid into the round. “I’ve acted rather cowardly as of late.”

“Cowardly? That’s a bit harsh, don’t you think?”

“Maybe, but I think it’s true. Travelers are supposed to be neutral and not interfere with other people’s lives, but that doesn’t mean you have to let innocent people get hurt. I could have shot Alexei and even some of his men yesterday, but I panicked.”

“There was no guarantee you would have survived that. They all had weapons, you know that.”

“I’ve been in worse situations. I let my fears get the best of me, and now here we are.” The traveler took some exotty putty and placed it over the percussion cap that rested on the tip of the bullet; they had specifically chosen a hollow point round, as it prioritized stopping power over penetration. “I’ve mentioned this before, Hermes, but I sometimes have these moments where I feel like a very stupid and cruel person. I look back on the past or even my current situation and feel like I deserve nothing. What you saw yesterday when I… when I was upset, that was just a somewhat worse version of that.”

“I remember you saying something like that.” Hermes responded. “Though I didn’t really understand what you meant.”

“That’s okay; I don’t either, to some extent.” They said calmly, now using a knife to incise a cross into it, letting it dry around the bullet. “But as I also mentioned before, seeing other people and the beautiful lives they lead- it makes me happy. It’s why I’ve traveled for this long, and why I’m not stopping anytime soon.”

“Right. What does this have to do with the bullet?”

“Alexei doesn’t like travelers, or anyone for that matter. Anything that is outside the state cannot be tolerated in his mind, making a lot of good people his enemy. That’s why he was so vicious despite having never met me; I am the enemy, and I need to be dealt with. And honestly, I feel the same way about him.”

“Pardon?”

“I realized last night that he needs to be killed. I don’t know how, since we can’t go into the country due to the three-day rule and that we’d get killed, but Alexei needs to face justice. And we are going to be the ones who deliver it.” They explained.

“Kino, remaining neutral as a traveler isn’t just some lack of care for others suffering. It’s because half the time trying to intervene doesn’t even work! You could get killed!” Hermes explained; Kino remained quiet, placing the bullet into the revolver’s cylinder and snapping the barrel onto the end. “See, I know you. When you get quiet, that’s when you’re the most stubborn. Do you even have any semblance of a plan?”

“Well, I was thinking I could drive up to the front of the country with my persuaders visible and say that I don’t take questions.”

“Kino, don’t joke about that!” Hermes shouted angrily, much to Kino’s delight.

“I’m kidding. But we have a better chance than you think; Alexei’s still trying to centralize power, meaning the country could spiral out of control following his death. Truth is, Hermes, all we have to do is kick down the door and the whole rotten structure will crumble to the ground.” They said confidently. Hermes sighed.

“Who put you up to this? Really, who made you start thinking this?”

“Well, I met a priest who said that even one’s enemies deserve better. I think it’s about time that we give the people of that country something to be happy about.” They placed the revolver on the table and wrapped up the tools in the white cloth it rested on. The traveler yawned and got into their bed. “Truth is, I think I have something to be happy about.”

“Well, I guess that’s one thing worth celebrating in this plan of yours.” Hermes grumbled. 

“Sleep tight, Hermes. We’ve got a big day ahead of us.” Kino said, drifting into slumber.


	4. I am determined to offer an apology with my death.

__

_For all the things that commissar talked about_ , Kino thought, _he had a point when talking about discipline._ Even if they weren’t a soldier, they still needed to be well-practiced and prepared for any and every challenge that they would face. Even something as simple as the way they dressed or how their hair was combed in the morning was vital; appearance was not merely the interest of the vain and self-centered, but an important component of what it meant to be a traveler. The same principle applied to their morning routine, as being rusty with either of their one-handed persuaders could result in death. So much had to be calculated and weighed with each draw, like the weight of the weapon, the speed, accuracy, how quickly one could pull the trigger and whether the shot was lethal. The very act of killing was not just a complicated ethical problem but a complicated math problem as well. They felt awful phrasing it that way; even if the people they were planning on killing were monsters, they were people as well. But that was the only way they were ever going to break the cycle.

When the fighting itself actually started, they weren’t going to be using the revolver for most of it. Only one shot of the super-charged hollow point could be used due to safety concerns with how the round would discharge. This left them with the Woodsman; a .22 Colt pistol that Kino used mostly for hunting animals when rations were low. What it lacked in strength it made up for in accuracy and speed, making it a decent replacement for the time being. It’s holster was on the traveler’s back, with the grip facing upwards; despite looking a bit clunky, it was far easier to draw it with that. Alongside that was the Flute, a modified M14 with a scope and a suppressor, but the ammo was hard to find and they were out of it at the moment. And so Kino relentlessly drilled long before the sun had risen, making sure that each weapon could be pulled out at a moment’s notice and be used without a hitch. First, the Cannon would be drawn and then holstered, followed by the Woodsman; this would be repeated ad nauseum. As they drilled, Kino remembered the encounter they had with Alexei a few days before, and how genuinely unnerving it was seeing him for the first time. This “Vozhd” could inspire ranks of men to his cause despite making the most absurd of claims; how did he turn a country of people into a country of Blackshirts?

As they got lost in thought, a particularly quick drawing of the Woodsman shook the floor a little and caused a book from the bookshelf next to the bed to fall, making a _thunk_ as it hit the ground. Kino holstered the weapon and walked over to the shelf, kneeling down to pick up the book. They looked at the cover; it had a picture of a soldier charging a trenchline with a bayonet and was titled “Triumph of the Theorist”. It’s author was a man named Ivan Serov; Kino felt like they recognized the name from somewhere, sitting down on the bed and flipping through the pages. They could tell it was Hashimoto’s copy because notes were written on the side, mostly just highlighting sentences and writing “rubbish”, “nonsense”, or “stupid, embarrassing dribble written by a hack fraud” next to it. The traveler realized where they first heard of the man after stumbling across the word “Devil-Cosmopolitan” in one paragraph, although it didn’t seem like the man was religious; other pages seemed dedicated to trashing the “slave morality” of established religions. 

The world, argued Serov, was a cold and harsh place. As demonstrated by Darwin’s research into the origin of mankind, we were not magically better than the animals around us; we merely had the ability to fool ourselves into thinking otherwise. The Cosmopolitans had organized themselves and formed a powerful governing council which preserved their hold on the world, deceiving people with notions of solidarity or compassion beyond nations. The only way this could end was if the pure and childlike races were organized under the authority of a revolutionary party and it’s leader, the General-Secretary. “The cleanest races will abandon parliament and replace it with a system which will transcend all previous political and economic antagonisms and destroy the hereditary reactionaries”, he wrote. In order to achieve this, all things subordinate to the party must learn to love authority, and engage in what he called the “eternal drill-session of the spotless mind”; constant physical and ideological training so that every individual within the state would know their job and execute it flawlessly. Kino noted that in a way, they believed something similar, albeit with regular persuader training and not fanatical obedience to a leader. They closed the book and noticed that the sun was now slowly peeking through the windows. Kino placed the book back on the shelf and continued to practice for some time.

Like before, they could hear Hashimoto and then Dmitri waking up and walking around, followed by music humming through the walls. Only, this time it didn’t sound like a recording; the tuning and practicing of two violins was followed by a gentle tune. Kino placed the persuaders on the table and emerged to see Hashimoto and Dmitri sitting across from each other with sheet music propped up on music stands. They each had violins in their hand and looked intensely focused on what they were doing; Dmitri even had his eyes closed as he played, like he was bragging that he could do that. Kino sat in one of the chairs at the kitchen table and watched patiently as the men played, and they noticed that the sheet music was simply titled “Waltz No. 2”. When they finished, Kino politely clapped.

“I didn’t know you two were musicians.” They noted. Dmitri smiled as he placed his violin to the side.

“Don’t have a lot of time to do it these days, but every now and then Hashimoto and I try to get some practice in.” He said. “This piece is ancient as well; wrote it in college, I think.”

“You write music?”

“Used to. But the party didn’t much like the stuff I wrote back in the day. Still remember what those imbeciles at the Commissariat for Culture called this one; “bourgeois and anti-revolutionary in its musical character”. What a bunch of crap.” He said mockingly.

“One of the few things Kazuo, the DRP and us all agreed on was that all the censorship on culture was immoral and a waste of resources.” Hashimoto noted. 

“And it’s not like their “culture” was any better!” Dmitri remarked angrily. “They can barely right any mu- ah, forget it. Let bygones be bygones.”

“So, why were you playing music just then?” The traveler asked.

“I like to play some music for house guests on the day they leave. Something nice to think about before heading out.”

“Well, thank you for that. It was wonderful.” 

“I’m glad.”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

In a dark and damp tent, officers and generals all gathered around a table in the middle. On it was a map of the surrounding area, with arrows and models representing the movement of troops and convoys. Vozhd Alexei sat in one of the only chairs in the tent, looking over it all with reading glasses. One of the generals, whose face looked like a shriveled grape, was explaining to Alexei the status of the troops. As a part of the new “Breathing Space Campaign”, towns and villages identified as being led by Devil-Cosmopolitans were to be seized and distributed to those who could prove that they had a pure bloodline. 

“The enemy has made a breakthrough here, sir.” The general said calmly. “They’ve re-occupied the bell tower overlooking the town and are advancing towards our machine persuader nests at the farm. They’re at the northern city border, and in the east enemy forces have occupied the mayor’s house.” As he spoke, Alexei looked on stoically, processing the information and thinking carefully about their next step.

“When Matkovsky attacks, that should give us the edge needed to succeed.” Alexei said, referring to one of the generals assigned to that operation. The generals in the tent all looked around anxiously, unsure as to who should break the news and how. Finally, one of the officers, an incredibly young man, spoke up.

“My Vozhd…” He said, sweat pouring from his forehead. “Matkovsky…”

“Matkovsky didn’t have enough force, and the attack didn’t take place as a result.” An ancient looking general said calmly, finishing the other’s sentence. The tent was dead silent; Alexei sat quietly, still looking down at the map. He started to move a little; shaking just a bit. He slowly raised his hand up to remove his glasses, stumbling a bit and having trouble keeping his grip on it. Eventually he caught it, and placed it gently upon the table. In the crowd, the boy emperor Akira looked on with a startled expression.

“The following stay here: Mikhail, Bunyachenko, Zykov and Oktan.” The Vozhd said quietly. The generals not named and their monarch quietly shuffled out of the tent one by one until only the Vozhd, his generals and some party officials and guards were left. Alexei hated looking at the men before him; Mikhail’s awful face, Bunyachenko looking like he should be put in a home, Zykov with the most pale skin he’d ever seen and Oktan with this stupid grin he carried with him everywhere. He couldn’t wait any longer.

“That was an order! Matkovsky’s attack was an order! How dare you ignore my orders!” The Vozhd screamed. The generals stood outside silently; one of them watched the boy emperor looking dour, his eyes filled with tears. “Is this what it has come to? The military has been lying to me. Even the Blackshirts lie to me! You generals are nothing more than a bunch of disloyal cowards!”

“My Vozhd, I cannot permit you to insult the soldiers.” The younger officer named Zykov protested.

“Cowards, traitors and incompetents!” Alexei belched out.

“My Vozhd, this is outrageous.” Zykov said, barely containing his nervous fury.

“The officer corps is the scum of our people.” He said scornfully, grabbing a few pencils from the table and chucking them down in the direction of the generals. Zykov and Oktan flinched, the latter no longer smiling. “No sense of honor! You call yourself generals because you spent years at the academy, where clearly all you learned is how to use a knife and fork! A few days into my rule, and the military is obstructing me. Even the Liberation Army built from exiles now stand as nothing more than meek rats scurrying below my feet! I should do what Andrei did and have all you officers executed!” He shouted. As the Vozhd raged against his men, the Emperor was now crying, comforted by one of the older officers present.

“I never went to any academy for warfare.” Alexei said, still angry but his voice lower. “But I have conquered this nation all by myself. I have been betrayed and deceived from the start! This betrayal of our race will not go unpunished, men. Every one of these scoundrels will choke on their own blood. The war is not lost, despite your best efforts.” The Vozhd said, rising from his chair. 

“My Vozhd, what exactly are you planning now?” Mikhail asked. Alexei looked him right in the eye.

“I am going to the front, and you rats are going to see what it means to lead soldiers.” He said. “All of you are coming with me.” Alexei strutted out of the tent with the four officers behind him. As he was preparing to speak to the officers on the need for unity between the general staff and the government, he could hear whimpering coming from somewhere. He looked to see Akira, burying his face in one of the men. Alexei stopped in his tracks and slowly walked over to them. The boy turned around and wiped his eyes with the sleeves of his red coat.

“I-I am sorry. I wasn-'' As the emperor tried to speak, Alexei embraced the boy with a hug, catching him off guard. For a moment, the two stood silently, while the trees above gently moved from the breeze and the guards and officers around them looked at the two, a bit unsure as to what on earth was happening. Alexei thought about his father, and how only death stopped him from practicing kindness and charity to other people. Even then, in a way, it didn’t end; maybe he was riding up high and looking down upon them all with a smile. The thought comforted the Vozhd of All Peoples for a brief moment.

“You don’t need to apologize.” He whispered. “You are stronger than any army, Akira. Believe me.” 

“I am?” Akira asked.

“Certainly. Your bloodline is protected from the touch of the Cosmopolitan.” Alexei said as he released the boy from his grasp. “Me and some of the generals will be heading into battle today, Akira. I want you to come.”

“A-are you sure?”

“I think you would learn so much, lad.”

“Okay. I’ll come, then.”

“Very nice.” He said. Alexei turned around and pointed at one of his men. “Get my rifle this instant!” He barked; the generals were somewhat relieved that Alexei was acting normal. The officer scurried into the tent and came back with a Mosin-Nagant rifle, holding it out for him. Alexei snatched it out of his hands and smiled looking at it; as per his request, the stock had the words “Blessed are the _volk_ , for they shall inherit the earth” engraved in the stock of the rifle, and a long bayonet was mounted on the end. He relished at the thought of entering combat once again, getting the chance to pierce the hearts of the Devil-Cosmopolitans.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

As Hashimoto and Dmitri gave the traveler one last tour of the country, they began walking through what was called the “Special Economic Zone”. These areas had businesses that were run normally, as opposed to the state-run or worker-run industries that made up most of the economy. On each side of the cobblestone street they walked upon, businessmen and women advertised their goods and services to those passing by. One store in particular stood out to Kino; an older looking store with no one out front. It’s display cases showed pistols, rifles, machine persuaders and even grenades. Most interesting to the traveler were an assortment of knives with decorated handles and incredibly sharp blades.

“Kino, no.” Hermes said, interrupting their thinking. “I know what you're thinking.”

“I’m just admiring the collection. Nothing wrong with that.”

“Right, and then you’re gonna go in and come out with more knives. How many do you have right now?”

“Not enough.” They replied. “Hashimoto, Dmitri, I’ll be right back. Just need to get some supplies.” 

“Sure thing, comrade.” The old minister said. Kino parked Hermes alongside the road and walked away before he could bicker any longer. They opened the door to the shop, causing a bell attached to the top to ring a little. On every wall, persuaders and firearms of all kinds were mounted, with a collection of pump-action shotguns taking center stage. A single poster was propped up on the wall next to the cash register, showing a soldier brandishing a Lawnmower persuader with the text “Teutonic appeasers will rot six feet underground!” written at the bottom. Kino didn’t know what a Teuton was or what they did to deserve that fate, but decided it was best to tread lightly if the topic came up. As they closely examined the assortment of knives they had seen before, they turned around to see an older-looking man walking to the register. He had curly grey hair which swooshed to the back and his face carried an odd expression, one that looked like he was deep in though even when he wasn’t.

“Welcome, whoever you are. This is my humble shop, where you will find tools for hunting, eh, animals. At least, I hope they’re animals, because I don’t need the commissars knocking on my door again.” He remarked, speaking with an accent Kino hadn’t heard before. “Anything caught your eye?”

“Just browsing. Those knives are incredible.” They said; Kino felt like a kid in a candy shop just looking around at everything.

“Real things of beauty, aren’t they? Got those ages ago. A traveler sold it to me, I think.”

“Do you offer any discounts for travelers?” Kino joked. The man smiled.

“Yeah, when hell freezes over.” He noticed the persuader holstered on Kino’s hip. “What’s that you got there?”

“Oh, you mean Cannon?” They said, pulling it out and holding it before the man. His eyes focused intensely upon it, weighing it in his hands and examining the parts.

“A pretty complicated persuader, traveler. You have to put a lot of time just loading the gunpowder into each bullet, let alone firing the thing.”

“I don’t use gunpowder.”

“What?”

“I use liquid propellant.”

“Liquid pro- _oy vey_ …” He muttered, wiping his forehead with his arm and handing the revolver back to Kino. “Dangerous stuff you're dealing with, traveler.”

“Well, so is fighting people. It fits.”

“Oh good, and you’re talking about killing people. At least give me a little bit of plausible deniability when the DRP comes around asking about a murder.” He anguished. “What exactly are you even doing with a revolver that big?”

“Like I said, firefights. Self-defense and protection.”

“I see. I have some ammo and propellant stored around here if you want.”

“That would be great, thank you. I’ll need .22 long rifle and 7.62’s as well.”

“I can do the .22 but I’m currently out of stock on 7.62’s. I know, sue me.” He responded, going behind the counter and placing the ammo on the countertop. Kino sighed; this was going to make things a lot harder. “Firefights. What kind of people are you fighting, eh?”

“Usually bandits and highwaymen. I had an encounter with some Blackshirts that almost went bad, but it resolv-” They stopped speaking as they noticed the expression of the man behind the counter. His face was now much sterner, and he placed his hands upon the counter.

“Let me guess. You got kidnapped by Alexei’s men and now you want revenge.” He said.

“Not exact-”

“You _amoretz_ are all the same.” He muttered. “You get roughed up by Yukio, Sadao or Alexei, and now you think that you alone will take them down and bring justice. Then hard-cut to your corpse riddled with bullets while Blackshirts and/or soldiers laugh at how easy it was to shoot you. Seen this story a million times, and to be honest, it gets old quick.”

“No, but-”

“Doesn’t matter how good any of those kids were, you see. If the Blackshirts or the soldiers didn’t tear them limb from limb, each of the three were tough to crack. Yukio trained with a sword for decades, Sadao was a veteran with a revolver and Alexei knows his way around a rifle. Learned that last part the hard way, I did. _Lign in drerd un bakn beygl_ , I tried to tell that dog as every bone in my body was shattered by 7.62’s.” The man lectured.

“‘Xcuse me, bu-”

“And did any of them have a plan? At least I had a plan. A stupid one, granted, but it was something. Some lone wanderer isn’t exactly going to bring down the entire army of-”

“Excuse me!” Kino angrily shouted, interrupting the man as he went on. He looked up to see his customer trying to regulate their breathing in an attempt to cool off. “I apologize for yelling, but can I explain myself?”

“Uh... yeah, sure.” He responded quietly.

“You’re right on one thing, in that I had been kidnapped by the Blackshirts. The thing is, however, is that this isn’t about me. When I was being interrogated, one of them asked me whether I went by Mr. or Miss, and when I said that I went by my name, they were fine with that. I later saw his body swinging from a tree, because Alexei decided that he had acted craven. His name was Vladimir, and he’s dead because of me.” They pointed to themselves. “I want to avenge him; it’s really that simple. It’s not my place to take a side in this conflict, no matter how strongly one side feels about another. Maybe that dumb kid couldn’t get justice, but he could get vengeance.” They explained. As the traveler talked, the man’s face changed, slowly turning into a grin.

“Vengeance. Gotta admit, I like the sound of that.” He conceded. “You’ll still get killed I bet, but that’s something. And for a Blackshirt, really? Did you know the guy beforehand?”

“Does it matter?” Kino responded. 

“I like you. Come with me, Gideon.” He said, walking to the backrooms of the building.

“That’s not my name.”

“Maybe not, but it’s a compliment. Take it.” He remarked. The traveler followed him to a dimly lit backroom. Much like the front, it was stocked with persuaders and ammunition, and on it’s deep blue walls hung artwork showing ragtag militias battling with heavily armed platoons of soldiers. One in particular had text which read “We shall not go like lambs to the slaughter!”. The man gestured at a chair in the room and Kino sat down, while he paced around the room, looking through shelves and cases for something. “When I was… I guess twice your age, I had traveled to that country to give weapons to the slaves there. I said it was a business trip officially, but the truth is I wanted to chuck automatics to just about every person under Yukio’s jackboot free of charge; try and start some kind of revolt or something. Alexei’s men found out, and next thing you know I’ve spent two years of my life slaving away in that city up above. I’ll spare you the details; I escaped, and when I got back I met with some buddies and formed a group to get back at them.”

“Was this the plan you mentioned?” They asked. He nodded.

“We thought just a simple ambush along the road would have worked. The Blackshirts figured it out immediately, and wiped out just about everyone. Alexei got some shots on me as well.” He uncovered his left leg to show stitching below his ankle. “The man is no joke at long range, traveler. But he has a weakness; two, in fact. First of all, he’s not as good in CQC. Granted, he’s vicious with a bayonet, but anger clouds his thinking when up close and personal.”

“How do you even know this?”

“Saw him shank one of my college friends during the ambush.” He said matter-of-factly. “The _prostak_ got sliced in the shoulder by him, and he went wild after that. The second is gonna require some reading- ah, perfect!” He held in his hand a book entitled “Phrases and Quotations of the Culture” and held it out to Kino. “This is the most up-to-date guide of references within the culture, and even some from ours.”

“That’s nice, but I’m not returning to the country itself. I only stay for three days.” Kino replied.

“It’s not for that. See, Gideon, the thing most people don’t understand about the culture is that even outsiders who embrace it are still shunned. If anything, they hate it as much as people who don’t know the references, because they believe that they couldn’t possibly enjoy it like they do. So, they believe that outsiders who try to adapt those customs are trying to pollute their society.”

“So even if you do understand what they’re saying, they don’t like it?” They grabbed the book from his hands.

“Yup, and it can be used to our advantage! If one combines their culture and ours, it could make them fly into an uncontrollable fury!” He asserted. “Well, I don’t really know; it’s still theory and not practice. But hey, in the one percent chance you don’t get run over by a tank, you’ll have achieved greatness.”

“Inspiring.” Kino said sarcastically. 

“I’m just trying to help. I can tell you’re stubborn, Gideon, bu-”

“Again, my name’s not Gideon. It’s Kino.” They interrupted.

“Heh, alright.” The man said, scratching his head. “Like I was trying to say, I can tell I won’t stop you, but I can try to impart some knowledge onto you from someone who tried in the past. That, and I like your reason for this.”

“My reason?”

“Speaking from personal experience, revenge in of itself is stupid. It feels good to do, but it rarely gets to the heart of a problem. Vengeance is sacred; because it is one person acting for another, it is ideally removed from the personal feelings of revenge. Much like a judge ruling on who is innocent and who is guilty. Even if we can’t do justice for the dead, we can at least show others that wrongs are punished. You know what I mean?”

“Honestly, no. I’m not that removed from this.”

“Well, the details aren’t important. The point is that you’ve got a good reason. Now, go get that ammo on the counter and take it with you.”

“You're giving it for free? I can pay you.”

“I’ll be fine. You need all the help you can get. Now go and take it before I change my mind.” The man instructed. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Akira, you understand far better than any of the politicians of our nation that our government’s foundation is laid, it’s cornerstone rests, upon the great truth that the Cosmopolitan is not equal to us,” the Vozhd lectured to the boy, “that submission to the superior race is it’s natural condition.” He, the emperor and the generals were being driven to the fighting along a long, winding dirt road which connected this town to the country. The generals all looked bored to tears having to listen to Alexei go on another rant about the superiority of their race and the need to suppress the Cosmopolitans; Oktan tried to distract him by making big clouds of smoke from his cigar, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t care. His mind was on other things, whether it was explaining his theories or watching the large columns of black smoke coming from the town fill the sky.

“Alexei, can I ask you something?” Akira asked.

“Certainly. What’s on your mind?”

“I feel like we’ve had this conversation before. I’ll confess to being a bit confused as to why we are talking about this again.” He noted. The Vozhd smirked.

“You’ll probably have this conversation many times after today, I suspect. See, Serov-” Oktan audibly groaned hearing the name. Alexei looked shocked. “What?”

“Just answer the lad’s question and get on with it.”

“That’s precisely what I’m trying to do, Oktan.” He scolded. “Serov had this concept called the “eternal drill-session of the spotless mind”. In essence, it means that we must constantly prepare ourselves mentally for our struggle against the subhumans. Think of it like prayer; sure, both you and those who reside in the kingdom of heaven know what you’re trying to say, and will likely hear it again and again. That’s not a flaw; that’s a feature! Constant repetition creates ideological unity; it’s really something.”

“I see.” Akira responded. “I guess I never really thought of it like-”

“Hold that thought, Your Majesty.” Alexei said, looking out into the forest. He and his generals could see a middle-aged woman running through the woods, most likely a farmer from the village. “Mikhail, my rifle!” Alexei shouted, standing up in his seat while the jeep buckled from the bumps in the road. The general carefully passed over the rifle; Alexei quickly grabbed it and aimed it down range.

“Should I stop the car, sir?” The driver asked.

“Nope. Keep moving.” He said softly. Akira placed his hands over his ears just as a shot was sent down range. It landed in the back of the farmer, causing them to hit the ground in an instant. Alexei and the generals laughed.

“Excellent shot, my Vozhd!” The driver exclaimed. “How many meters was that?”

“My guess is 400. And to hit a moving target while in a car, I’ll be damned!” Zykov said.

“Like I said before, there is only so much you can learn in an academy! Battle is where boys become men!” The Vozhd said.

“Alexei? Did- did you just kill them?” Akira asked, his face pale. Alexei sat back down in his seat and leaned the rifle up on the side door, the bayonet poking out before him.

“I did. What’s the matter?” 

“I’m not really used to that. I’ve never seen someone die.” He said, looking off to the side. 

“Really? Not even your father?”

“Alexei!” The emperor shouted angrily.

“Sorry, right. Sensitive topic, I know.” He said quickly. The boy went back to gloomily looking off into the forest, while Alexei sat in silence. Oktan was surprised to see him quiet down; he wondered whether he was getting soft. The generals enjoyed the peace and quiet while Alexei followed the smoke from the town with his eyes; it was important to start off the Breathing Space Campaign with a bang, after all. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So what’s this all about, then?” Marshal Hashimoto asked. “I heard talking last night about a plan of some kind.” He was standing in the doorway of the guest room, watching while Kino packed up the rest of their belongings. 

“Oh, that was nothing. No need to worry.” They said, putting away the stove used for concentrating the liquid propellant of the revolver.

“Really? Nothing to do with, say, a plot to kill the self-proclaimed “Vozhd” Alexei?” He remarked. Kino turned around, remembering Hermes' comment about their lack of skill in lying.

“Was I that loud last night?”

“Nope. The walls are thin. That, and it’s hard to not interpret you responding to the news of his ascension with asking about the firing range.”

“Oh. Yeah, that’s a good point.” They admitted, going back to packing. Hashimoto threw up his hands.

“And?”

“I’m still going to do it.” Kino responded.

“Oh, come on. You really think you can just waltz along and shoot him?”

“Something like that. The details need to get hashed out, but that’s the basics.” They responded cheekily. Hashimoto put his hands down and groaned.

“Do you even know what you’re dealing with, traveler? I know you’re talented with that revolver there, but that thing’s a peashooter in comparison to the persuaders the Blackshirts pack. This is not even mentioning the artillery and tanks they have, and I think they may have even bought a plane or two if our intelligence is correct! And what do you have to say to that?” He questioned. The traveler didn’t respond, packing up an assortment of ammunition and putting it away in various bags and cases. “Silent treatment. Alright, I get it. I respect the dedication, kid, but this isn’t going to work.”

“I’ve already thought this through and even had a discussion about this with the persuader store owner earlier. I know it’s risky, and that’s fine. It is what it is.” They said. Kino put their trench coat and hat on and placed a heavy white bag under their right arm. “I sincerely appreciate the hospitality you and Dmitri have shown me, and I am very grateful for how you helped me when we first met. But even if I wasn’t travelling, this is still something I have to do. Thank you.” Kino said politely, walking away towards Hermes. Hashimoto watched as the traveler did a final check on their goods placed on the motorrad, while Dmitri stood by with a worried look on his face.

“Any luck?” He asked his husband.

“Nope. Kid’s stubborn.”

“Just like you, in a way.” Dmitri responded. They both smiled briefly. The traveler waved to the two men.

“If I don’t see you again, thanks for everything!” Dmitri and Hashimoto waved back.

“Take care of yourself, Kino!” Hashimoto said.

“Don’t do anything stupid, please!” Dmitri exclaimed as the traveler drove away. They drove on through the streets while cars drove on and the Presidium main building cast a large shadow down on whatever was below it. As they passed through the gates leading out of the country, Kino could once again see the beach and water which extended for miles on end. A few ships could be seen in the distance, carrying cargo containers and flanked by patrol boats and destroyers.

“That was quite the country, Kino. Where to next?” Hermes asked.

“Come on, Hermes. You know exactly what we're doing.”

“Oh jeez, you’re actually going through with this?”

“I said yes the last time, and I’m saying yes now.” Kino responded.

“You really think you can do this?” He questioned as the two passed on through the woods. “This could end really poorly for you.”

“I appreciate the concern, but I know what I’m doing. Besides, if I get wounded, I have some medical supplies left over.”

“Kino, these don’t seem like the kind of people who spare the wounded.” Hermes remarked. 

“No… I suppose they aren’t, Hermes. But if they were, then I think we wouldn’t be doing this.”

“Fair enough. Say, do you even know where we are headed?”

“Not particularly. My thinking was to wait it out in a nearby town and go from there.” Kino said. As the two emerged out from under the thick canopy, they could see a column of black smoke erupting into the sky off in the distance. 

“You mean that one?”

“Whelp, that could be Alexei.”

“Are you sure?”

“Worth a shot. I don’t have any other leads.” The traveler pulled out a map from one of the bags attached to the motorrad and looked at where they were. If the map was correct, then the road they were on now had a crossroads up ahead, with one road leading to the town and the other heading past Alexei’s country and towards some place else. If they really wanted, Kino reckoned, they could just escape from this place and survive without a hitch. Under normal circumstances, this would be the right thing to do; at the end of the day, a traveler has to look out for their own survival. But this was more than that. Kino felt like they had made too many excuses for far too long; now things were going to change. They put the map away and drove forth.

“Once more into the back, I suppose.” Hermes said.

“Hermes, I believe it’s “Once more into the breach”.”

“Yes, that’s it!”

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The town that once stood along the road leading to the country was now a graveyard. As the jeep carrying Alexei, Emperor Akira and the generals drove along, they could see corpses piled up all around while a few soldiers stacked jewelry, paintings and artifacts in a big pile in the middle of town. Alexei could count five soldiers in eyesight; didn’t they send twenty? And didn’t Mikhail say that the mayoral building had been re-occupied? It didn’t add up at all. As the jeep came to a halt, one of the soldiers opened the door to the vehicle and out came the entourage. Alexei stretched his arms and looked up once more at the smoke.

“Tell me, how many soldiers were sent here?” He asked.

“Twenty, I believe, sir.”

“Why are there only five?”

“Well, five of this unit regrouped with Matkovsky to form a defensive line over there, sir.” He pointed off into the distance at a mountain overlooking the town.

“What of the other ten?”

“KIA. The partisans are fighting like hell, sir.”

“Ten. Brilliant.” The Vozhd muttered. “Alright, are the partisans dealt with at least?”

“Most of them, yes. A few escaped into the woods, I’m afraid.”

“That explains the woman from earlier.” Bunyachenko noted. “Does your unit have any working radios?”

“No, sir. It got shot up during one of the street-sweeping offensives on the right side of the town.”

“So we can’t even radio Matkovsky to get back here. Wonderful!” Alexei shouted. 

“Are we going to be okay, Alexei?” The emperor asked.

“Just fine, lad.” He responded. “Get the rest of the men in your unit back to regroup here. We hold for now. Driver, get back to base and get our reserves to ride shotgun with you!” 

“My Vozhd, that would deprive us of an easy way to maneuver around the battlefield.” Mikhail protested. “If we have to move around quickly, we’d be out on open ground with no cover as long as the unit is outside of the town.”

“Good point, Mikhail. Driver, scratch that!” He shouted. The driver gave a thumbs up in response. “Grab some weapons from the dead and make due.” The generals quickly started to search the corpses of their men and the civilians trying to find anything to arm themselves with. Akira walked next to Alexei and looked out on the piles of riches stacked up.

“What happens now?” He asked.

“We wait. The partisans could regroup and come back, and since Matkovsky is… I don’t even know what he’s doing, we hold until our armored units arrive. Think of it like the old cowboy movies, where the good guys fight off the Indians until the cavalry comes in and save the day!” He explained. Akira sighed.

“Right, but this isn’t a movie.” Akira said quietly. Alexei would normally have someone shot for such a blatant anti-culture statement, but he knew in his heart that the boy didn’t mean it like that.

“Not with that attitude, it isn’t. Akira, the culture is an all-encompassing body. It governs every rule and law of nature; it shapes our world, not the other way around. To embrace its rules is to be one with heaven and earth.” Alexei said, gesticulating like he was speaking at one of his rallies. “Tell me, lad, what’s your favorite film?”

“My favorite? Uh, I haven’t seen many movies. My father showed me _The Room_ once, and I liked that.”

“A classic! Your father had good taste!” He responded. “You’re tearing me apart, Lisa!” He exclaimed, trying to imitate the bizarre accent and mannerisms of the lead actor. Akira laughed.

“That wasn’t bad.”

“You think so? A lot of politics is acting. You have a part to play and you try your damndest, you know?” As he spoke, the generals had acquired new weapons from the dead and were now brandishing them openly. Mikhail carried a Type 99 Arisaka over his right shoulder, Bunyachenko was loading a Bren automatic persuader, Zykov looked down the sights of a double-barrel shotgun and Oktan inspected an MP18. “Your father would have been proud of you, Akira.”

“I hope you’re right.” As Alexei started to point out positions and patrols for the generals and soldiers to take, Akira looked at one of the piles of corpses set up nearby the town church and wondered whether the gods approved of all this.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Kneeling at their hiding spot on a hill next to the town, Kino could see through their binoculars what looked like hell on earth. Next to burning houses and mass graves stood soldiers in gas masks pacing around the houses and buildings. They each seemed to have designated spots to guard; one would go around the church and down the road, only to turn around and do it again. Another walked past a school to a set of houses at the end of the town and looped back around. One guard stood completely still in front of a large assortment of personal belongings, and two soldiers were guarding what looked like a government building with an automatic persuader set up on the balcony. Right along the road in front of the building stood the Vozhd himself, talking to a boy who looked quite young. Considering the dead bodies littered around the town, it likely wasn’t a prisoner, but Kino wasn’t sure who they were.

“I see a glint in that tower, Kino.” Hermes noted. Sure enough, Kino could see a soldier with a scoped rifle overlooking them all. 

“Good spot. Anyone else?”

“I see three- no, four guys standing around by the church.” Kino looked over to see four men in black uniforms with big broad hats talking to each other.

“Are they Blackshirts?” They asked.

“Don’t think so. The hats look different.” He noted. “Looks like you got your work cut out for you. The Flute would make this a walk in the park.”

“Yeah. Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve.” Kino muttered. “No use despairing, I think.” They rose from their cover and took off their brown coat, gently placing it upon Hermes.

“What’s the plan, then?”

“I’m thinking I sneak in and see how far I get. From there, open fire with the Woodsman and get to Alexei.”

“Really? That’s it?”

“I think it’s wise not to overthink these things, Hermes.”

“Maybe, but underthinking it isn’t a solution, either. Especially when all of this is over one guy.” He chided.

“It’s not that simple. This isn’t about politics or revenge or anything like that.”

“So what is it about, then?” Hermes asked. The traveler was silent; the straps on their hat fluttered in the breeze as they looked at the burning town. The sun itself seemed to be covered by the smoke. “I don’t want to see you killed, Kino. You may not care about that right now, but I do.”

“I have no interest in getting killed down there, I assure you. I promise to come back alive.” Kino responded, their voice much more confident.

“Take care, Kino. And if I don’t see you again- nice knowing you.” Hermes said, his voice much quieter. 

“The same to you, Hermes.” The traveler said, trying to comfort the motorrad. Kino slowly walked down the hill and crouched down, keeping as low a profile as possible. The sun combined with the fires raging on made the heat downright awful, and they were already sweating by the time they reached the side of the town. The metal plates under the traveler’s coat were strapped tightly enough so that they didn’t make a sound, but the crunching of rocks and gravel under the boots did. As one of the guards started to turn around in order to walk back, Kino dashed onto the grassy plain and ducked into one of the houses that hadn’t been set on fire. They waited patiently, watching as the soldier slowly walked past the door. Just as they breathed a sigh of relief, the soldier knelt down to see what looked like footprints. He looked around the area for a brief moment, before gently raising his rifle and slowly following its tracks. Kino moved to the right side of the door, their body covered by the wall. They listened carefully as the steps of the soldier got louder and louder; as the doorknob started to slowly turn, Kino held their breath and slowly pulled one of their knives out of their coat pocket.

As the door creaked open, Kino could see the tip of a rifle slowly emerge, followed by its user. Kino quickly lunged at the man’s neck with the knife, kicking the door closed with their foot as the man struggled to gain control of the situation. The soldier tried to turn the rifle around, but he was unable. He collapsed to the ground, and Kino quickly grabbed the rifle before it could land, out of fear of it discharging. To their disappointment, the rifle was not chambered in 7.62, once again confirming that the Woodsman was their main weapon for now. They placed the weapon down and peaked out the window; the other guard walking around was on the other side when the two had clashed. The traveler carefully left the house and got on their belly, crawling through the dirt to the next unscathed house in order to avoid getting spotted by the sniper in the tower. As they moved over, they could see the soldier on patrol, looking around for something. Kino spotted a ditch to their left and quickly rolled into it; as they landed in it, they realized that they were now laying upon a pile of bloody bodies that had been stacked up. They held their breath and listened as the guard called to one of his mates.

“Wasn’t that Konstantin’s route?” The soldier asked.

“Yeah, supposed to be. He could be using the restroom.”

“I’m going to check just in case. He didn’t inform me of it, so better safe than sorry.” 

“Good thinking. Let me know how it goes.” As they could hear the guard pace over to the house they were just in, Kino slowly climbed out of the mass grave and once again began to crawl towards the house from before. They watched as the guard opened the door and screamed at the sight of his dead comrade.

“Konstantin’s down! I repeat, Konstantin is down!” He shouted, panicking and shaking. As the soldier walked through the door, Kino quickly shuffled over to a point where the sniper wouldn’t see them and got on their feet. They drew their knife and and walked slowly through the door, placing the cold steel into the soldier’s back and pushing him to the ground. The traveler quickly scouted the situation from the window; more guards were approaching, and it looked like the four soldiers with the big hats were talking to Alexei. They holstered the knife and drew the Woodsman, unloading the magazine to see how much ammo was in currently. It was full, and they had plenty of rounds to spare as well.

As they placed the magazine back in, Kino could hear a guard scream “Contact!” followed by several rounds being fired into the house. They quickly ducked down and moved to one of the tables in the house, flipping it over and pushing it to the window. They popped over and let out a round, landing in the leg of an advancing soldier, before ducking again as bullets whizzed by. The automatic weapon on the balcony began to open fire, spitting lead into the house in an attempt to provide covering fire, and the sniper had his eyes locked on the window and looked carefully for any movement. Kino saw an open door to the side, figuring that they needed to sprint out of the house. They grabbed a broken vase from the floor and chucked it out the window, then sprinted to the door as the machine persuader fired another volley. As they ran, Kino felt a surprisingly intense pain from their left shoulder and slammed into the door, taking a moment to breathe and assess the situation. They looked and saw that the very tip of their left shoulder had been grazed by a bullet, possibly from the sniper. It hurt like hell, but aside from a little bleeding and a cut in their clothes, it wasn’t a problem. The traveler turned the corner and fired two shots into one of the soldiers, both landing in his head. He dropped, and his comrade responded by opening fire with his rifle. Kino ducked back into cover before letting out two more rounds into the soldier, both landing in his chest. 

In response, the sniper opened fire once more, the shot whizzing past Kino’s head and nearly giving them a haircut. As they rolled back into the house and hid behind the walls, they could hear more shouting.

“Mikhail, Bunyachenko, Zykov, Oktan! Get in there and flush the partisan out!”

“Generals do not lead from the front, my Vozhd!” One of them shouted.

“That is an order, you miserable pile of flesh! Get in there!” Kino could recognize that voice as belonging to Alexei, but the other one was not familiar. The traveler quickly dashed to the rifle of one of the deceased soldiers within the house and ran back to cover while another burst of machine persuader fire slammed into the building. The wood was now littered with holes, meaning that they didn’t have a lot of time. Kino inspected the weapon, a Type 99, and loaded its ammo using a stripper clip found on the corpse of the soldier. They put the bolt forward and aimed it towards the machine persuader user, firing off a shot. It bounced off the top of the building, not even close to the soldier. They ejected the shell and put the bolt forward again, adjusting for distance. They fired again, but the shot hit one of the windows nearby. Again they loaded in another round, and took a deep breath as they aimed down the sights. The round flew down range and landed in the man’s head, causing his head to burst and his body to fly back and hit the ground. Kino remembered how the master once remarked that a good sniper only fires two shots at the most in one location, before moving to a different firing point. That was comforting on the one hand, in that it meant that the sniper in the tower was not as skilled as they appeared. It was also not comforting, in that Kino had fired… well, a lot of rounds; they knew that much. As they carefully peaked through the window, they could see that the sniper had realized the same thing, and was quickly climbing down the ladder of the tower. They carefully lined up the sights of the rifle with the man and slowly pressed down on the trigger with their finger. Just before the shot could be sent out, however, bullets began to land in the house from a different direction, and Kino quickly made their move out of that house and into the next through a narrow corridor. This one had a second floor to it, and they quickly walked up the stairs and pointed the rifle down it, waiting for someone to come by. 

“The partisan went in here, I believe!” One of the generals shouted.

“This can’t be the work of just one partisan. No way in hell we lost that much to a Cosmopolitan!”

“Shut up, Mikhail! Now is not the time. Everyone on me, we breach in three!” 

“Heavens protect us, then.” One of them muttered. 

“Three, two, one. Breach!” A general ordered. The door flung open and the sound of footsteps could be heard on the first floor. The generals now carefully walked forward, presumably checking corners and looking in the rooms on the first floor. The wood creaked with every step they took. As an older looking man stepped into Kino’s line of fire, they let a round out, landing into the man’s shoulder and causing him to fall back out of sight.

“Ah! Goddamn it!” He shouted.

“Zykov, bandage him up!” 

“On it!”

“Bunyachenko, did you see where the shot came?”

“Where else, you dunce! Up the stairs, Oktan!”

“Understood. Anyone grab any grenades?” The room fell silent in response. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“I was grabbing medical supplies. Why did you not grab any, Mikhail?”

“I got nervous! I don’t know how to handle those things.”

“Bloody hell.” The general named Oktan muttered. “Partisan, Cosmopolitan, whatever you are! If you surrender now, your safety is guaranteed!” The general waited a moment for a response of some kind, but nothing came. Kino slowly put the rifle down and pulled out the Woodsman.

“Great plan, Oktan.” 

“Hey, screw you! You haven’t done anything so far!”

“Liar!”

“How ‘bout you try to kill the partisan?”

“Fine, I will!” He pouted. The officer named Mikhail poked his rifle around the corner and fired a shot, missing completely and hitting the wall along the staircase.

“Nice shot.”

“Shut up, I’m trying!”

“Comrades, comrades! Fighting amongst each other is not the solution!”

“Then what is, Zykov?”

“What if we take Bunyachenko’s persuader and fire through the roof? We either hit the devil or draw it out into our line of sight.” The men were silent for a second. Kino quietly stood up and readied the Woodsman, lining up the iron sights with the individual cracks in the floorboard.

“That… that could work. Bunyachenko?”

“Always liked you, Zykov. Smarter than the rest of us.”

“Well, I won’t be smart if we get killed. Hand it over to me and le-” Before he could finish, three shots rang through the top of his head and into his body, falling immediately.

“Zykov! Not like this!” Mikhail despaired, firing wildly into the roof. “You poor ba-” Two shots flew into his head as well, and his body sunk to the floor. Oktan desperately tried to pull the bolt back on his MP18 but it was too strong for him. As he backed away towards the door he could see the partisan place two rounds into the wounded Bunyachenko’s head and reload the weapon. As he desperately tried to open the door, he could feel the weapon being pointed at him. He turned around to see a strange sight. The partisan’s clothes were stained with dried blood, and their left shoulder had a cut which was bleeding. Brown strands of hair poked out from under a hunting cap, and their face showed no emotion. He dropped the persuader and held up his hands.

“I surrender, I surrender!” He shouted. “I don’t want to pick a fight, you know?! I was always the reasonable one in the bunch, the-ah, the adult in the room. Yeah, exactly! The adult! Alexei, he’s a bit much, right?! I just- you know how it is, you have your job and you do it! Orders are orders! You seem like the merciful type! You know what it's like to suffer and you feel the pain of others! Yeah, exactly! I’m- look at me, I’m broken down! I’m not interested in fighting, not for Alexei or the revolution! Not to cause offense of course, because if you are a revolutionary then that’s cool! Workers of the world, unite! Right? You get-” His panicked ramblings were cut short by two bullets in the forehead. Kino stood there for a moment, looking around at all the carnage that had erupted so far. They thought about where the people who lived in this house were, hoping that maybe they escaped the carnage.

Inspecting the man’s uniform, it looked like they were both Blackshirts and generals of the army; party medallions rested next to golden military awards. Kino looked out the window to see Alexei angrily gesturing to a person driving a jeep, entering it along with the sniper and the boy. Kino ran to the body of the man named Bunyachenko, grabbed and lugged over his persuader and mounted it on the window. Aiming down the sights of the weapon, Kino let out a few bursts from the Bren and put them into the tires of the vehicle. It swerved before coming to a stop, and the four in the vehicle dismounted. Alexei had pulled out a rifle of his own and was now firing back. A single bullet cut the tip of Kino’s right cheek, causing them to fall back into cover and once more take a breather. Like the other one, it stung madly but was hardly lethal. They quickly grabbed the Bren persuader and opened fire on the driver and sniper, who were trying to move from the jeep to the stack of the townspeople's personal belongings. The bullets tore through their bodies like paper and they fell to the ground as Kino dashed away from the persuader and out the house. A bullet landed right before their feet, causing the traveler to panic and dash back to the outside of the house. Alexei was standing behind the jeep, taking potshots when he could. 

“Come on out, partisan!” He shouted. “I’m not afraid of you, or any of your race for that matter! I have constructed a land so beautiful it will never perish!”

“Agreed! They should have sent a poet!” Kino shouted back. Alexei thought he recognized the voice from somewhere. _And did they just quote- no, couldn’t be_ , he thought. _Impossible, out of the question._

“Who is that speaking to me? Who are you, partisan?” Alexei asked.

“My name is Kino! A few days ago, you had me detained and tried because you believed me to be a threat to your country!”

“Ah, that’s right! I remember you! Quivering before me, sweat pouring from every part of your body! What a sight!”

“For sure! You're A-Number One, Alexei! You're the Duke! You're the Duke!” Kino responded. Again, Alexei reckoned, they were speaking quotes from elsewhere. What was going on? Why were they talking like that? It was driving him up the wall; he let out another shot at the wall where Kino was, trying to draw them out.

“They must be mad, Akira. Mad as a March hare!” He whispered. “Listen here, Cosmopolitan! I know why you’re here! You shall not harm the emperor! It is my duty as the Vozhd of All Peoples to protect him and his noble race from attack!” Akira looked startled hearing those words come out of his mouth.

“I’m not here for the kid, Alexei! I’m here to kill you!” 

“Pardon?”

“You heard me!” They barked. Kino took a moment to breath; they couldn’t remember the exact words within the book the shopkeeper gave them for this finale, but they had to try. As Alexei pulled the bolt of the rifle back to load another round in the chamber, Kino stepped out from cover to face Alexei; he looked baffled, keeping his persuader pointed down range. The traveler threw the Woodsman to the ground, and then placed the Cannon down gently as well. “Come on Alexei, throw away the persuader. You don’t want to pull the trigger; you want to put a blade in me, and look me in the eye, and see what’s going on in there when you turn it. That’s what you want to do, right?” As the traveler finished speaking, Alexei’s confusion turned to anger; it all started to make sense to him. The Devil-Cosmopolitan world order had a culture of their own, and following Hegelian dialectics, they weren’t merely going to crush their enemies. It would consume and appropriate them, twisting and churning them until it was unrecognizable. That was how they had won in previous conflicts; they could never be strong enough to face the master race head on, so they had to get creative. The very thought made his blood boil. The culture- his culture - would not become the dresses and playthings of the Cosmopolitans! 

“Alexei, don’t do it. They’re trying to trick you.” Akira insisted. Alexei shook his head.

“If this thing wants a bayonet shoved into its heart, I’ll be more than happy to deliver. Wish me luck, Your Majesty.” He said quietly. The Vozhd ejected the remaining rounds from his rifle and put the bolt back in place, moving his right hand from the trigger to the grip. He was now holding it more like a spear as he walked around the jeep and towards the traveler. “Move the persuaders farther away; let’s make this even.” Kino obliged, grabbing both weapons by the barrel and placing them to the side. They pulled out from one of their pockets a switchblade, flicking it open, holding it before them and assuming a defensive stance. Alexei gave a wry grin seeing how small the weapon was; in his mind, he could already see the final victory. He could remember what his commanding officer told him and his comrades when they first trained to use a bayonet, how they needed to use the bayonet to either close the gap between combatants or expand it, and finding the best approach would be the key to success. He lowered the rifle until it landed upon the ground, holding still while keeping both eyes on Kino. The traveler was standing perfectly still, their breathing slow and their face calm.

Alexei used the bayonet to flick some dirt towards the traveler, leading to them dashing to the left to avoid it. He followed this up with a series of rapid thrusts towards Kino’s center mass, which they avoided by repeatedly backing up. He backed up a step and raised the rifle up, striking down with the bayonet in order to slash at them. Kino raised both their arms, crossed them and bent their knee as the bayonet came down. It crashed into the metal plates under their coat, creating sparks as it landed. The traveler pushed the bayonet off and slashed Alexei across his cheek; Akira audibly gasped at the sight of him bleeding. He pushed the traveler back a bit with the butt of the rifle and grasped his face.

“Are you okay?!” The emperor shouted nervously.

“Just fine. Honestly kid, I haven’t felt this alive in ages.” He responded, grinning at the traveler. He felt the cut and pulled his hand away, looking at the blood on the tip of his finger. The Vozhd shook off his hands and held the rifle out before them. Both of them were sweating profusely; the heat and the action was doing them no favors. He charged at the traveler and widely swung at them with the bayonet, trying to strike at any possible opening or unguarded part of Kino. Beginning with an attempted sweeping of their legs, he followed it up with a jab towards the eyes and a slash across their chest, but the traveler had jumped over the swipe and subsequently blocked each attack. Flipping the rifle around, Alexei began to use the end of the rifle as a club, rapidly smacking towards them in order to drain their energy and break their defenses, but a particularly ill-aimed swipe was met with Kino pushing the rifle to the ground with their foot and swiping at his face with their fist. It collided right into their nose, and the metal plate slammed into the side of their cheek and made a loud crunching sound, causing Alexei to back up and stop for just a moment. He grimaced as he held his nose.

“What a sight, Akira!” He shouted. “In our rightful lands, here comes along a woman prancing around in a man’s clothing! Have you ever seen anything quite like it?!”

“Uh, n-no Alexei. Can’t say I have.” Akira responded. Kino remained in position, gripping the knife tightly and breathing slowly in an attempt to keep their cool.

“Right. See, Akira, a lot of what we humans call our morality can actually be more accurately described as our nature. We create reasons as to why we do this or that action, but the truth is that we do it simply because we are like that. You study biology; think of how animals develop in their behaviors. Would you call goats fainting due to loud noises morality? Or a lion that savages their prey for food ethics?” The Vozhd lectured, slowly pacing around with his rifle in hand.

“I’m not sure.”

“Precisely. The same can be said for human behavior. When I was a soldier, battling your countrymen and then mine, I saw our true nature. Fighting for survival, struggling to take things from each other, starving your opponents…” He drifted off a bit at the end. “That sort of thing. But the Devil-Cosmopolitan is unique in that it has an inverted base function. It has what I would call an “un-nature”; their instincts lead them to act in ways which actively hurt the planet. Back to the clothing of the traveler and their un-nature, what my critics would dismiss as merely being a choice in fashion or even a broader understanding of gender is actually an existential threat to the culture and our-”

“So why am I here, then?” Kino asked. Alexei looked furious having been interrupted, his face turning red and his stoic expression transforming into him gritting his teeth. 

“Beg your pardon?”

“You said that humans act on instinct, and that even non-humans do the same, right?”

“Yeah. What’s your point?”

“Well, the reason why I’m here is because of the man you killed named Vladimir. He was one of your Blackshirts, and according to you I should have no reason to care about him. But he was the only one of your men to show me any kindness or empathy, and you had him killed because of that. As a result, I eventually decided to avenge him, even though I don’t know or care who he was. My instincts, to use your phrasing, compelled me to forget this whole affair, but another part of me said that the right thing to do would be to find you and kill you. I ended up following the latter.”

“Well, like I said, people trick themselves. Maybe you did think that way, because as Gumilyov notes-”

“Or maybe you justified killing innocent people and even your own men with books written by hack frauds so that you could feel good about yourself.” Kino interrupted. “Just a thought.” As Kino finished speaking, Alexei readied his rifle and rushed forward, once again using the end as a club. Kino put up their arms to guard it, but the attack broke through and caught them off guard. Alexei flipped the rifle back around and slashed vertically down, the blade blinding the traveler with the sunlight bouncing off it. It sliced across the traveler’s left shoulder and shredded through their coat; they lost their balance and fell on their back, groaning from the pain. Alexei held his position and kept the bayonet ready, but he was grinning madly and putting out his chest to boast. Kino slowly got up from the blow, using their right hand to raise their body from the ground. They sat up straight and examined their wound; this one had cut deeper, but not enough to break bone. Placing the handle of the knife in their mouth, Kino ripped the left sleeve of their coat off and began to carefully wrap it around the wound. As they tied the knot and tightened it, Kino wasn’t sure how to fight now. The metal plates which were strapped to their arms were still doing the trick, but their left arm was so weak now that even moving it a little was painful. The traveler took the blade out of their mouth and placed it in one of the pockets of their coat, and brought out a particularly sharp Bowie knife to replace it.

“It bleeds, Akira. That’s good to know.” Alexei said snarkily. The Blackshirt commander threw off the long black coat he was wearing, revealing a brown military uniform with medals. “Got this back in the war. Been looking for a day when I could fight with this thing on again, so I suppose this will do.”

“What did you get the medals for? Hanging your own men?”

“Bravery.” Alexei grumbled. He watched as Kino slowly shuffled forward, their knife held before their face and their left arm dangling to their side. As Alexei started to ready the rifle, Kino rushed forward and slammed into Alexei with their right shoulder, pushing him back a little. As the Blackshirt commander struggled to take control of the situation, they placed the knife into his left knee and kicked the grip of the knife with their foot to the side, turning the blade inside his leg. Alexei screamed in pain, and quickly punched the traveler repeatedly in the gut in order to get them away. Despite the wound, every swing of his fist slammed into their stomach like a freight train and the traveler had to eventually back off and catch their breath. Kino watched as the Vozhd tried to rip the bloody blade out of his leg, screaming in agony with each attempt. At this point in the fight, they could finally see an opening. Kino slowly walked over to the Cannon placed on the ground and picked it up with their right hand. Holding the handle of the persuader by squeezing it under their left arm, they pulled down the loading lever of the revolver with their right until it was pointing downwards. They then grabbed the handle with their right hand and lifted their left hand in front of them carefully, placing the barrel on their arm and using it like a stand for a long-range rifle or belt-fed persuader. By the time they finished, Alexei had ripped the knife out and chucked it to the side, only to look up and see the barrel of the weapon pointed right at him. He frowned.

“No honor amongst thieves, I see?”

“I didn’t live this long because I fought fairly.”

“Please don’t tell me you had all of this planned out.” Kino gave a well-mannered smile in response.

“You talk too much, Alexei. Makes it pretty easy to figure out what you’re going to do next. Makes it even easier to plan around it.” They responded. It was a bald-faced lie to claim that they planned it all out, but seeing Alexei humbled made it worth it in the traveler’s mind. Alexei looked back in horror at the ammo he had thrown to the ground; with the state of his leg, he didn’t have a chance to either lunge at Kino or dash to get their ammo. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and looked up.

“It’s over then. Our races in union were not as strong as I thought, Your Majesty.” He said quietly, dropping the rifle at his feet. “Woe to the conquered, I suppose. Do your worst, Kino.” As Akira watched from the sidelines, he could feel his heart pounding faster and faster, like the drums of a military parade. He clenched his fists and took some deep breaths, silently cursing the gods for putting him in this position, and ran out from behind the jeep, shouting “Wait!” as loud as he could. The young emperor stopped before Alexei and held out his hands to each side, standing in the line of sight of the Cannon; his red coat flourished in the wind.

“As Emperor, I order you to stand down at once!” He shouted. _Oh great, this is just what I needed right now_ , Kino thought. “You have no right to fire upon either my subjects or my ministers!”

“Not interested, kid. I have to do thi-”

“I am not a kid! I am the Emperor, and my word is law! I am the sovereign, and as long as you are in these lands, you answer to me!”

“But this town didn’t belong to your country. You invaded it.”

“Precisely! We claimed it and took it, as it is our right to! My empire recognizes one rule, traveler; “One general law, leading to the advancement of all organic beings, namely, multiply, vary, let the strongest live and the weakest die”!” He quoted. Alexei cracked a gentle smile hearing the boy speak.

“Then if that’s the case, it’s still my right to kill him, right? I won the fight, and your minister even said that that seemed fair, yes?” Kino asked. Akira’s stoicism broke down quickly; the boy closed his eyes as it began to fill with tears.

“I-traveler, he’s my friend.” He said, his voice much softer than before. Akira slowly walked closer towards Kino. “Please leave us be.”

“I can’t do that. Your friend has hurt a lot of people. Move out of the way, please.” Kino responded calmly. Akira continued to walk forwards. “I’m not interested in shooting you. Please move.” The boy opened his eyes and stood before the traveler. He reached towards the persuader.

“I can’t let you hurt him!” Akira shouted as he grabbed the barrel of the revolver and tried to yank it away. Kino quickly pulled the revolver back and flipped it around, the grip now facing forward. They swung the handle of the revolver towards the head of the emperor, making a loud _thwack_ as it knocked him to the ground. Flipping the revolver back around, Kino placed the barrel on their left arm and lined it up with Alexei’s head. As the Vozhd looked up into the sky and the emperor cried, the traveler squeezed the trigger of the revolver. 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

While the weapon’s barrel let loose a great ball of fire as the round was sent out, Alexei thought of his father for one last time. He could see his face, so much paler during the famine that when Alexei returned home he could barely recognize him without hearing his voice. His spirit shined on regardless; the church in his neighborhood would never have a more pious and gentle member of the flock. For a man as physically intimidating and powerful as he was, not once did he seem to ever consider using it to hurt anyone, even when they spat in his face, decried his faith and docked his wages. He always believed in other people, and his son in particular. When he learned that Alexei was enlisting in the army and going to fight, he blamed himself, wondering aloud as to what he had done wrong and whether he was a cruel and awful parent. Alexei knew that none of that was true, but he didn’t know how to express his love at the time; he simply shook his hands and walked off to the recruitment center. 

When Alexei had returned, he was already radicalized. His mates in the trenches were either die-hard revolutionaries or believers in the new movements of Gumilyov and Serov, distributing their literature to all who were interested. He remembered the joy he felt going to see radical nationalist speakers at the various clubs and parties formed at the time, and the community it gave those ghosts in the trenches. But seeing his father starve didn’t help either; learning about how the republic couldn’t feed the very people it swore to protect made his blood boil. The final day of his father’s life, Alexei remembered shouting every profanity he could conjure up against the Devil-Cosmopolitans and the talking shop they called parliament. How could they abandon us like that? Surely, Alexei concluded, those monsters did not even deserve to be described as a lower race, because that implied that they were human. But his father, lying in his bed in a tiny apartment they both called home, told Alexei to breathe, and consider that heaven was simply telling him that it was time. Alexei couldn’t believe that to be true, and again shouted and cried in despair at the thought of him dying. His father simply told him to come closer; as he did, he placed one hand on his shoulder and used the other to turn the radio on. As the melody of Edward Artemiev’s _Flight_ filled the room, the two silently enjoyed their company for the last time, and his father drifted into eternal slumber.

When Alexei learned that he couldn’t even afford a proper burial, the only thing he felt at the time was anger. He did what he did best, and yelled and berated the men who denied his father a resting ground. His nationalist mates watched as he ranted and ranted like never before at the latest party meeting, decrying the state and asserting that they must have loyalty not to government but to the race, and how only the total destruction of Devil-Cosmopolitanism and the hereditary reactionaries would see justice be done. And when he finished and sat back in his chair, the men roared like they did for no other speaker; it made Alexei feel a little better. When the civil war broke out and his comrades joined the counter-revolutionaries, he was the first to assert that the monarchists were only marginally better than the anarchists who threatened the nation, and that a new authority was needed. The exiles found that authority in him, and a nickname that a local paper gave him stuck; Vozhd. 

As they marched towards their new homes in a country that despised them, Alexei would find an ally in Sadao, a general with new ideas as to how wars would be fought in the future. Emphasis on ally; Alexei always believed that politics was hardly the place for friendship, and the designation of “comrade” was never to indicate solidarity with mankind but respect for your racial kin. The soldiers and Blackshirts of the new movement were not seen by him as equals but as pawns in chess, to be moved around by the player. It made things rather lonely, even when the great poet Yukio seized power and made their dreams reality. Maybe that’s why he found Akira so endearing; he was still removed from all that baggage the adults seemed to carry with them wherever they went. As much as he wanted to scold him for backing off Darwin’s principles right then, he also couldn’t believe his ears when he called him “friend”. It had been ages since that happened.

Alexei always wondered what would happen when he died. He knew that as hard as he fought in his political life, his father was not coming back. It was a hard pill to swallow; that no matter how many Cosmopolitans he sent to the camps, he would not see the fruits of his labor in this mortal shell called a body. It drove him up the wall at first, but the church helped him come to terms a little. Every time he heard _Flight_ , he could still hear his father’s voice echo within him. That traveler had done him one favor by ending his life, at least. For a brief moment, he could hear the music again; not _Flight_ , but a different song, one that he and his father knew by heart.

["I'm coming home, Papa."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=m45gi4hiSWw)

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The high-powered shot of the persuader sent Kino flying back, just as expected. They landed on the ground on their back, the impact of it killing their left shoulder. The weapon had created a minor shockwave as the bullet squeezed out of the barrel and towards the target. As they slowly got up, they looked and saw the result. The bullet, much like when they had used a similar concoction against the mad king, had pulverized the skin and bone as it made contact. When the concentrated propellant ignited, it exploded, leaving the man’s face resembling the carcass of a dead animal after days of rotting. Broken bones violently poked out, covered in blood and flesh, while the bottom of the head had formed a pool of brain tissue and hair. The man called the Vozhd of All Peoples was dead.

As Kino got to their feet and holstered the Cannon and Woodsman, they turned to see the boy who called himself emperor watching the body from his seat, stunned and horrified. The heat was now even worse and every part of Kino’s body either felt sore or was actively bleeding; they wanted to leave so bad. But they had one last thing they needed to do, one more thing to settle the score. The traveler placed their right arm upon their hat and removed it from their head, their hair quite messy from the sweat and heat. They placed it up to their heart and closed their eyes. 

Kino was never really sure what prayer was, or whether it was even a good idea. If those who ruled above really had everything planned out, then how selfish were they to ask of them to make a change of course? Not that they ever responded, it seemed. Even the immortal seemed to be bogged down by paperwork and bureaucracy, they reckoned. Was there a right way to do it, or had all the holy men and women been lying through their teeth? Neither answer seemed right. Regardless, they prayed. First, they thought of the victims, the poor slaves and civilians caught in the line of fire. Those who lacked the power of the state always seemed to be descended upon by vultures and wolves, but the sight of Blackshirt bodies that weren’t Kino’s handiwork indicated that they weren’t just lying around and waiting to die. Then Vladimir came to mind, his face obscured by a bag as he swung from a tree. The traveler hoped that maybe he found some peace in the end, and that his death was quick and painless. As an author once remarked, one must imagine Sisyphus happy. Finally, they thought of Alexei, thinking that even if nothing awaited the dead they had nonetheless faced justice. If a land did exist for those souls who passed on, then surely he would face his sins there. The breeze made the heat slightly more bearable as they stood in silence for some time.

“You killed him…” Akira said, his voice barely squeezing through his throat like the bullet in the persuader. “Why? Why would you do this?” The traveler did not respond at first, placing their hunting cap back on their head and opening their eyes. They could see the boy emperor sitting on the ground, staring up at them. “Answer me!”

“I did what I had to. It’s that simple.”

“What are you? A revolutionary? A spy?”

“Neither. I’m just a traveler; I have no interest in the politics of your country or your enemies.”

“How could you not?”

“Because I’m not a God.” They responded. Akira’s eyes started to water again; he pulled out a handkerchief from the pocket of his coat and blew his nose into it.

“If any of that is true, then why did you shoot Alexei?!” He angrily questioned. 

“Because I’m not a coward.” Akira watched as the traveler named Kino turned around and began to walk away, their left arm held tightly by their right hand. He watched as the traveler made a few more steps before stopping in their tracks and falling to the ground, the heat finally making them cave in. As he sat alone, surrounded by the carnage, the emperor prayed for salvation and for his realm to find peace.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first thing Kino felt as they slowly woke up was this baseline of pain at the back of their neck, this granular feeling they sometimes had when they hadn’t eaten in a while due to the stresses of the job. They were thankful; not because it felt good, but the fact that they were feeling anything meant that they were alive. Whatever they were lying down on felt soft, and their body must have been covered partially by a blanket or cloth of some kind. Their left arm felt numb and their legs tired. Slowly, Kino’s eyes began to open, and they could see that they were in a hospital room of some kind; the floor and roof was painted white and the walls had a gentle blue color to them. They were wearing a hospital gown, and they could see stitching where the bayonet cut had landed. Sitting alongside the bed to Kino’s right was an anxious looking man with blonde hair, dressed up in a military uniform. To their left, a motorrad was propped up facing towards them.

“You’re awake.” The anxious man said, now recognized by the traveler as Ivan. “How are you feeling?”

“Better than I was expecting.” Kino joked. “I knew I’d live, but a few moments had me worried.”

“I was worried sick.” Hermes responded. “Watching you from the hill was like a nightmare. Don’t ever do anything like that again!”

“Not anytime soon, at least.” They said. “How did I even get here?”

“Marshal Hashimoto informed my unit and some others that we were being deployed to a local village under attack, and that we should be on the lookout for a traveler with short hair and a revolver. I knew immediately who he was talking about and sent my tanks right ahead. By the time we got there…” He looked pale just thinking about it. “I’ve never seen anything like that. Yukio and Sadao were bad, but that… I’m just glad that some got away. And did you kill Alexei and all those Blackshirt generals?”

“Sure did.”

“The union is eternally in your debt, traveler. You have done a service to the cause of the international proletariat that we are forever thankful for.”

“I appreciate your kindness, but I didn’t do it because of your country and it’s aims. I made a promise and I acted on it.” Ivan rubbed his hand through his hair.

“Oh, right. Yes, of course… Uh, we found a kid there as well. The emperor, did you meet him?”

“I did. Wasn’t too pleased about what I did.” 

“Yeah, he was really upset by the time we found him. He was returned to his family on the terms that the royal family abdicate, end slavery within the country and allowed for free and fair elections, which-” He stopped for a second and threw up his hands. “I mean, it’s not like we’re trying to expand the revolution or anything. Sure, allow a bourgeois republic to take its place and rebuild their army! Great diplomacy, Kazuo!” Ivan remarked sarcastically. “Sorry, Kino. Didn’t mean to get all political.”

“No worries.” They could see a stack of paper with a rope binding sitting on a stool next to Ivan. “What’s that about?”

“Oh, that! Well, I have two things to give you!” He said excitedly, scurrying through a pack laying on the side of his chair. “First, Dmitri got you a new set of clothes since your old one got all torn up. Same style, size, all that stuff.” He pulled out a set of white dress shirts and an army green coat, all neatly stacked.

“That’s very kind. If I see him again, I’ll be sure to thank him.”

“Certainly. Now, the next thing needs some explaining. You are obviously going to be resting for a bit here. Hashimoto made sure that you were sent to a hospital outside of the union out of respect of your three-day rule, whi-”

“Really? He didn’t need to do that.” Kino said. 

“Well, it’s what you live by, and we’d be pricks if we didn’t respect that. Now, onto this!” He placed his hands on the paper and picked it up. “It’s a bit selfish, but if you don’t like it then no worries. Uh, since you’re going to be here for a few days to rest, I thought I’d give you some reading material to make it a little better. And, well, I’ve been writing a book, and I wanted someone to look it over and see whether it was any good. Again, you don’t have to if you don’t want to-”

“I’d love to. What’s it about?” Kino asked. 

“Well, it’s about military theory. I’ve been writing notes for sometime about the way tanks and mobile infantry operate in combat and I want to develop a more collected and concrete theory to present about it. I call it “lightning war”; quick, rapid strikes led by armored units which will pierce enemy lines and envelop them, creating pockets which the infantry can sweep up. Ideally, this would minimize our casualties and bring rapid conclusions to the battles we engage in.”

“I’d comment, but I’m afraid I’m not very knowledgeable about that topic. I didn’t have a lot of proper schooling as is, let alone military theory.” They responded.

“No worries! I’ve simplified it so that civilians can understand it as well. Or, if it’s still unreadable, you could let me know and I can fix it up. You’re a smart person clearly, comrade, and I trust your judgement on these matters.” Ivan was again looking ill, his face now flushed red. 

“Ivan, are you alright?” Kino asked. “You look worse then I do.”

“What? I’m fine, don’t worry about me. You’ve got enough on your plate, what with the fighting and traveling an-and learning about others and- you know, it’s all very admirable, what you do! Very dangerous stuff, but by god, you do it, right?! Ah… sorry, I’m rambling, I’ll shut up.” He was very quiet at the end of his sentence.

“Oh boy, here we go.” Hermes muttered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kino asked.

“Seen that look a few times. Always spells trouble.”

“Look? Explain yourself, Hermes.”

“Yeah, what’s that about?” Ivan asked nervously. “I-I’m fine, I’m as normal as can be. I gotta be, because they're only going to be here for three days and I’m not going to mess this up.”

“Mess what up?” Kino asked.

“What? Nothing, nothing. You-don’t worry, it's nothing.” The tank commander said. He hated how tongue-tied and anxious he could get during these things. His mother used to say that for displaying iron will in battle and political theory, he was back to being a child when his feelings started coming up. Ivan hated when she said that, mainly because it was true. He clenched his fists and looked up. “Kino, you’re a very smart and kind person. I was wondering whether we could start seeing each other.” Ivan said clearly, before looking away again. His face was now completely red and he looked very tense. Kino looked back at Hermes; the motorrad expected an embarrassed look, but they looked more confused than anything. The traveler looked back and smiled gently.

“Ivan, you’re a very kind person but I’m afraid I can’t.” They responded calmly. 

“You’re right, I’m sorry. Damnit, I should leave. I’m such a moron.” He mumbled.

“No, Ivan, it’s not your fault. It’s me, really. As a traveler, I can’t really settle down, and I don’t really travel with anyone except Hermes. Besides, you can do better than me.” They insisted.

“Beg your pardon?”

“Ivan, you're a war hero. You can get anyone you want if you put your mind to it. Just because I’m not interested doesn’t mean you should give up.”

“But I don’t want just anybody.” Ivan said, looking down at his feet.

“You’ll find someone nice, I’m certain. Keep your head up.”

“I’ll try.” He said wistfully. “I’m really sorry, this made everything that much weirder.”

“Again, it’s okay. Don’t beat yourself up over it. What you did was pretty brave, anyways.”

“Brave?”

“Yeah. Someone once told me that “the greatest and most important virtue is courage. Without bravery, all other virtues are nothing more than thoughts dangling in the mind”. You should be proud that you even dared to try.”

“I guess you’re right…” He said. “I should get going. I have some things I have to take care of. If I don’t see you again, Kino, thanks. You’ve done a lot of good today.”

“Thank you Ivan. You as well.” The two smiled at each other, and Ivan got up from his chair with his bag and left, leaving the clothes and book behind. The door shut behind him and now Kino and Hermes were alone.

“Why is it that the crazy people we meet are the ones who fall for you?” Hermes asked.

“... just letting you know that as soon as I’m strong enough I’m kicking you as hard as I can.”

“Hey, come on!” Hermes shouted. Kino laughed in response.

“He wasn’t that weird. Left me something to do, so that’s not bad.”

“You said you don’t even know military theory.”

“Guess it’s time to learn a little, then.” Kino responded. They grabbed the pages with the right hand and gently placed it down on their lap. The cover page read “Results and Prospects” and had a short dedication on the next page. 

_This book is dedicated to the brave and courageous soldiers of the People’s Red Army, from the average private to the Grand Marshal himself. Without them, our revolution would have fallen long ago._

_Along with them, of course, is the immortal science of the Iron Marshal himself, Iosef Stalin. He envisioned a world without despotism, conquest, murder or violence, and paved the way for the ideals of our union and the vision of Paramount Leader Andrei._

_Finally, this book is dedicated to two people in particular. The first is my mother, who raised me and made me who I am today. The second is a traveler who showed me a different perspective on life, and I’m forever grateful for their kindness._

“When your wounds heal, Kino, where are we going next?” Hermes asked.

“Wherever the roads take us, Hermes.” Kino responded, flipping the page and beginning to read the book before them as the light from the sun began to fade away and day turned to night.


End file.
